A Valiant Heart
by Well I Don't Mind
Summary: The Hero of Bowerstone, Wolfsblade, is arrogant, violent and has a terrible reputation, and yet he is celebrated. But not by all. Ariana set her opinion of the man, of the Hero, years ago, and wants to prove to the world that a Hero is not something you are born as, but is something you become. Fabe II, OC/m!Sparrow!
1. Prologue

**Summary: **The Hero of Bowerstone, Wolfsblade, is arrogant, violent and has a terrible reputation, and yet he is celebrated. But not by all. Ariana set her opinion of the man, of the Hero, years ago, and wants to prove to the world that a Hero is not something you are born as, but is something you become.

**A/N:** Right, so.. I'm back, with another _experiment _(I think I have a serious problem). This one was an idea I had and simply couldn't let go of until I had done something about it, and the idea was; What did the people do, when there were no Heroes?

As you may already have guessed, this story takes place druing** Fable II**, and instead of following the Hero himself, we will be following a common girl whose opinion of the Hero is anything but good. When he goes away to the Spire, and the people are left to suffer from his absence, this common girl is tired of their longing for the horrid man and decides to take matters into her own hands and prove that Heroes can come form anywhere. Of course, their paths will cross, more than once, and perhaps there will be some change of heart...

The idea was to give my Hero a very arrogant and rude manner, and in game scale, he would be near fully corrupt and balancing on the neutral on the good/evil scale (though perhaps leaning a bit more towards evil).

So, as I stated, this will be an experiment. I will post the prologue and the first chapter to see if there's any interest in the whole thing. You will find that my chapters won't be as long as I usually make them, but I hope the quality with be enough to compensate the lack of length. This is the first time ever I will be focusing on the romantic picture, and while I normally do a lot of angsty stuff, this will be a bit easier and lighter. I will reach as far as dramatic at it's peak, but generally, this is intended to be such a story you can just relax and let yourself be drawn into, without having to sit on the edge of your seat (you might do that of other reasons, though! :D)

**Disclaimer:** The Fable Universe does not belong to me, but to Lionhead Studios and Peter Molyneux. The only thing I can claim as mine is the storyline and my original characters!

Enough ranting from me!

Please,

enjoy!

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**A Valiant Heart**

**Prologue**

Albion.

The Land of the Great Heroes, they say.

For centuries, the Heroes of our land had saved the people from the enemies, vanquished all evil, and brought peace to the domestic homes. When the great Hero of Oakvale banished the dreaded Jack of Blades from this world, the role of the Heroes was forever set in stone.

The culture of the Heroes thrived. The Heroes' Guild was considered to be one of the most important structures in all of Albion. Everyone wanted to know the Heroes, praise them, love them, and all they wanted in return was the Heroes' love back.

But without any great threat to save the people from, the Heroes soon turned arrogant and violent. They stood above the law, and the people could do nothing but to accept. The Heroes were simply too powerful. Little did the people know, that with great power come great responsibilities. The Heroes wallowed in fame and fortune, taking advantage of the people's love and trust—and fear. Heroes left children fatherless, and Heroes left both men and women fighting over their good graces. Heroes killed for pleasure, innocent people that were brave enough to stand up to their ruthless ways.

Soon enough, the people had had enough of the Heroes, and rallied against the Guild. They successfully drove the Heroes out—with many thanks to the element of surprise, and superior numbers—and the Heroes were driven out of the land, giving it back to its people.

For hundreds of years, the people of Albion had to be their own Heroes, and eventually, they had all forgotten about the fear and the terror the Heroes of the Guild spread through the world. Eventually, _Heroes_ only existed in literature, in children's stories of great adventures and dangers.

I, myself, read all about the adventures of Heroes like Nostro and Scythe, about Briar Rose and Thunder and Whisper. I read about the Hero of Oakvale, and I wished, so many times, that I could be just like him, that I too could be a Hero.

And then it came, the news of a real Hero. His name was unknown, and his deeds were few, but they were the deeds of a Hero. He had slain the ruthless bandit named Thag, and he had brought his head to prove it. It was a young man, not yet twenty, with brown, shaggy hair and a body that did not resemble the pictures of Heroes as we had seen them, at all. He was just a boy—but a boy carrying the head of a much dreaded bandit.

I had only been a child then, a girl of merely six years, but I remember—oh, I remember—the excitement as the new Hero entered town. We were all so curious to know; was he _really_ a Hero, like the ones we had heard so much about? He was shy, and called himself Sparrow. Some people laughed at him, talked behind his back and said, 'Sparrow? What kind of Hero name is that?' But the boy was not intimidated. His heroic deeds all around Albion soon spread to Bowerstone, and the city even acclaimed him as the Hero of Bowerstone. Next time he came to town, a month or two after his first appearance, he had changed vastly, in both appearance and behaviour. I remember him as much more confident, much more elevated by his own fame. He did not stay long, but I remember that it was enough for most of the young women around town to fall violently in love with him.

Some months after he left, word reached Bowerstone of how the Hero had become the new Crucible Champion, and claiming the name of Wolfsblade. Even though I was only a child, I still remember how I simply could not understand how a man could have such power over the people, even though he was so far away. When he came into town, the whole city was in a frenzy. I did not understand it then, when some of the adults demanded their children to stay inside, or when some adults spat and muttered about the Hero's arrival. I did not understand then, but I do now.

I had run away from home one night, from Old Town, to get a glimpse of the famous and celebrated Hero, and perhaps even an autograph. All the older girls from my neighbourhood had dressed in their finest dresses to go to the Cow and Corset. I thought them silly, to want to dress up so much for the Hero, but as I snuck into the tavern, though much too young an age, I could see how the Hero, now twice as big as when he first entered the city, favoured the girls with the tightest corsets and the girls with the barest legs. Nelly—the youngest daughter of our neighbour, only sixteen of age—was seated in the Hero's lap, and I remember looking away as I saw him kiss her in most inappropriate places.

I also remember how a drunken man wanted to challenge the Hero, and Wolfsblade had accepted, though also very drunk, and their brawl had not ended very well. With half the tavern completely destroyed, and with the Hero on a violent rampage, the villagers fled the building. Some of the girls that had surrounded the Hero earlier had been too frightened to leave and risk getting in the Hero's way, one of them being Nelly. I remember seeing him taking them all with him to one of the rooms, where they closed themselves inside, and the bartender was left to undo the terrible mess that had destroyed his beloved bar.

I had gone back home, disappointed and stubbornly bitter. Nelly was heartbroken some time after the incident—and though I did not know exactly why, I did hear my parents mention a much imprudent judgment on Nelly's side, and after, I remember a doctor coming to see her—and every time Wolfsblade was mentioned, she blushed and went away in tears. I had asked my mother why Nelly was so sad, when she always was so jolly, and my mother had said, that she had been granted the gift of life, but not from Avo, but from Skorm, and therefore, the poison had to be taken out of her. Later, I overheard Nelly's older sisters talk of the matter, and I leant to know that Nelly had been with child—the Hero's child—but had to kill it with poison, for the Hero did not want a child with a girl like Nelly.

From that moment, I would never again think of the Hero as I once did, because a Hero did not act like that. In school, some of the children wanted to learn more about the Heroes—all but me. The teacher, a fairly young woman with fair hair and brightly blue eyes, giggled at the thought of the handsome Hero, and happily told us everything about the history of them. It was though with some regret that she told us about the unfortunate fate of the Heroes' Guild and about the Fall of the Heroes, and while the rest of the class thought it tiresome to listen to, I found it rather interesting.

I was rather lonely in the whole of Bowerstone to feel so strongly against the Hero, because even the adults that disliked him, respected him all too much because of his powers, and thanked him dearly whenever he had preformed another heroic deed. I, on the other hand, did not. Instead, I engaged myself in my _own_ acts of heroism. It started out small, with me saving animals and younger children. In school, I was always beaten by the older and larger children, but that did not stop me. I wanted to show them all, that you did not have to be born a Hero to become one.

Two years went by. The Hero of Bowerstone continued his arrogant ways of mixing pleasures with business, and I continued to perform my own heroic acts. I might have started small, but two years of practice, together with my small frame, had turned me into the best shadower in the whole of Bowerstone. I was soon acting as messenger to the Sheriff, stalking people for him and bringing back news of their whereabouts. I can say, with some certainty, that I was the only girl of eight years old that made her own money in an honest way.

Then word came of the Hero's departure to the Tattered Spire, to join the Guard. People were devastated, not just because they felt like Wolfsblade abandoned them, but also because they were now so used to having someone take care of the criminals and the bad people, they had simply forgotten how to deal with them themselves, and they feared evil would flourish in his absence.

And it did.

Bandits settled in Bower Lake again, tormenting the gypsies and the people of Bowerstone. The dead were restless in Bowerstone Cemetery, and Hobbes had infested the areas around Rookridge. The people were waiting for a Hero, and in the absence of the Hero-blooded, another hero arose.

Or, a heroine. A heroine of the people. A commoner. Me. I named myself Scarlet Rogue, a salutation to the famous Heroine Scarlet Robe, and disguised myself with a ballroom mask I had found while stalking a criminal.

As the years went by, with Wolfsblade still at the Spire and with the Hero Hammer operating around Oakfield and Westcliff, Scarlet Rogue was lifted by the people of Bowerstone. However, they were all so astonished by this new Hero; who was she? She wore a mask and stayed to the night. She was rarely seen, and the few witnesses that had seen her, exclusively during the night, claimed her to be a small one—a child, almost—and the people were convinced that Scarlet Rogue had to be a true Hero. I laughed at it. I considered my nightly adventures as practice, and with the little money I attained from helping the citizens of Bowerstone and Bower Lake, I soon had enough to buy myself a real sword, an iron katana, no less, and a rusty old clockwork pistol.

I trained with my weapons during the day and fought crime during the night, and by the age of seventeen, Scarlet Rogue had turned into a house-hold name in all of Bowerstone, Bower Lake, and even as far as Brightwood. And, to give myself a pat on the back, though the people were disappointed by the Heroine's mysterious identity, they were however relieved that their masked Heroine was nothing like Wolfsblade.

I, however, was just glad that I could show them, that you do not have to be born a Hero to become one.

We could all be Heroes.


	2. Chapter I

**A/N: **Chapter 1, as promised. I hope you all like it! And don't forget to tell me what you think of it; do you wish me to continue?

Enjoy!

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**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter I**

It had been ten years ago Wolfsblade left for the Spire, and for ten years, I had walked the night, and kept the streets of Bowerstone clean at the very best of my abilities. I was now eighteen—not any longer a child, but a woman. The name, Scarlet Rogue, was admired by everyone, and I could not pretend like it did not affect my self-confidence. However, I did not let it go to my head. To the people of Bowerstone, without a mask I was no one but Ariana the Tailor's daughter. I was the girl with the copper hair and the shy countenance, not the beautiful, seductive Scarlet Rogue. But oh, how little they knew. Every night, I put my attire on—I had even attained enough money to buy my own mask, and dyed it green, together with my corset, patchy coat, hot pants and thigh boots—and let my copper hair up in a seductive bun, adored with an old headpiece of gold and feathers. When being Scarlet Rogue, I felt so much more secure, so much more in power of my own being. People feared and loved Scarlet Rogue, and more than once had a man fallen to his knees and begged for my hand. But it was only Scarlet Rogue they loved. Me, Ariana, was a different business.

I worked as a day shift barmaid at the Cow and Corset in Bowerstone Market, with long, tedious hours, and by late afternoon, I was ready to end my work shift. I was no particular girl; I did not stand out, I was not extraordinary, I was neither rich nor poor… I was no one, really. I had no fancy clothes, even though my father was a tailor, and I could scarcely say one word to men, let alone strangers. But come nightfall, and I had dressed up and become Scarlet Rogue, all that changed. All the women in town that I wanted to be like—the women that did not even know I existed—suddenly wanted to be just like _me_. Or, Scarlet Rogue, that is. But I was fairly content living a double life. It was, rewarding.

And if Wolfsblade had stayed at the Spire, I would have been the greatest symbol of justice that Bowerstone ever saw. However, he did not.

It was at the end of my work shift that day, when the news arrived; the Hero had returned after a spectacular break-out from the Spire. While I could not really rejoice in his return, all the other women, and men, did. My friend and my colleague Mary couldn't stop talking about it once the news had arrived.

"Oh, can you imagine?! He is on his way to _Bowerstone_!" she squealed as we were finishing up for the day. "Oh, he's _so _handsome! And young, too! Though he's been at the Spire for ten long years, he is but thirty! I would call that a very agreeable age! Very agreeable, indeed!"

I looked at my friend and laughed. "Mary, you are sixteen! I say there's a terribly large difference between your age and his!"

"It is but fourteen years!" Mary cried. "I've seen worse! Lady Amaranth, for instance, is married to man who is _twenty years _her senior! Now what have you to say?"

"Nothing, except for this," I sighed; "don't let yourself be fooled by his charms and appearance. Wolfsblade has a terrible reputation! Don't forget how horribly wrong he's done by Nelly!"

"Oh, but that was years ago!" Mary exclaimed. "Nelly is well over that by now. If not, I shall think of her as very silly."

"Isn't that a bit harsh?" I continued while drying of the last bit of spilled ale from the counters. "He did treat her very ill, you know."

"Well, I see no wrong doing," Mary shrugged. "He was simply being honest."

"Honest?!" cried I. "First, he took her to his bed, where they conceived and then he forced her to take away her baby, with poison! _That_ is not being honest; that's being cruel! Nelly has suffered horribly by it! She may never again have children, you know."

"Oh, who'd want children with Nelly, anyway?" Mary huffed. "She's far too fat."

"Mary!" I gasped angrily. "That is cruel! There's nothing wrong with Nelly. She's a perfectly amiable girl."

"Then how come she's twenty-eight and still not married?" Mary asked. "I have scarcely heard one good word about Nelly from any of the men I've met."

I rolled my eyes at the girl's cruel comments. "Well, I hardly think you and Nelly share the same circle of acquaintances."

"Perhaps not," Mary admitted, "but nevertheless, I do not think ill of Wolfsblade for wanting her to be rid of the child."

I shook my head, convinced that Mary was not easily persuaded to look at the Hero in any other light than a bright one. I finished work early that day and wandered about the market to see whether there was something worth buying or not and turned back home just as the sun was setting, back to Old Town, where mother was waiting with dinner. My younger brother, Aaron, came running towards me as I entered the part of the city, and he was bubbling with joy.

"Ariana!" he called. "Ariana! Guess what? The Hero's coming back!"

Sighing deep, I greeted my brother with a smile. He was only eleven years old, he had never met the Hero and seen what he was really like. "Oh, is he? I didn't know that!"

"It's true!" Aaron nodded as he caught up with me, his mall chest heaving for air. "He is said to come here tonight already, passing through from Rookridge! Imagine; we might get a glimpse of him first! Come, Ariana! Hurry!" The child grabbed my hand and pulled me along the cobbled streets, to our house, at the very edge of town, facing the city wall and the entrance from Rookridge. He stopped us by our front door and pointed towards the mouth of the wall. "There! That's where he'll enter! Imagine, a _real life Hero_! And so close to your house, too!" My brother looked at me. "You've seen him before, haven't you? Is he really as tall as everybody says? Is he really as strong, too?"

I smiled. "I hardly know," I confessed. "Ten years can do a lot to a man, you know. Ten years ago, you did not look as you do now."

Aaron rolled his eyes. "I was a _baby_, Ariana."

"Ariana, is that you?" our mother called form inside the house.

"Yes, mama!" I called back.

"Dinner's ready! Aaron, go call for your father!"

The boy sighed deeply as he sloped his shoulders before he went off in a hurry. I smiled after him before entering the house. Mother's cheeks were reddened from the heat of the stove, and had her hair in a handkerchief.

"Had a good day at work, darling?" she asked as we kissed each other's cheeks.

"Oh, it was tolerable, I suppose," I sighed. "But it's a bloody good income for such little work."

"Watch your mouth, girl," mama muttered, "or I'll have to wash it with soap."

I laughed, as I always did when mama corrected my speech. She did not particularly like when I practiced with my weapons or when I taught Aaron and his friends how to use a sling-shot. She wanted me to be a lady, and as such, I could neither use such foul language nor play around with men's toys.

"It's very exciting, isn't it?" mother said as we laid the table. "The Hero, finally returning home! Oh, I think it very exciting, indeed!"

"Well, I honestly can't see what all the fuss is about," I said truthfully. "It is but a man, ten years older than he was last time he came here."

"But a m—" mother spluttered. "He's a _Hero_, Ariana dear. You know, you should put on your fine dress and go into town tonight and greet him. Who knows, he might prefer you out of all the girls!"

"Mother!" I cried as I frowned deeply. "The last thing I shall wish, is to be the favourite of that scoundrel! I couldn't care less that he's a _Hero_; he is not a good man, and you know that as well as I."

"Oh, but he's older now!" mama said. "He isn't the same young rascal he once was! I shouldn't be surprised if he apologised, at the very least, to poor Nelly for what he did."

Sighing, I shook my head. "Men like Wolfsblade will never change."

Father and Aaron returned shortly after, and we enjoyed a nice family supper. When all was finished and done, and the family withdrew to their evening activities, I hurried upstairs to my small chambers, where I pulled out my attire and waited for nightfall. But as I looked at the clothes I had laid out on my bed, I suddenly realised with a heavy heart that I was hardly needed tonight. The _real_ Hero was coming, so no criminal would dare to cross paths with him. I decided, that tonight, I would enjoy an evening at home.

It was practically impossible for anyone in the house to miss the Hero's arrival, for mama cried so loudly, I thought even the Hero himself might hear it, and called for us all to come to the door. Reluctantly, even I joined my family. There was a thick crowd of people outside our door, and mother had to swing her broomstick for some to get off her lawn. As a figure appeared in the dark, right by the mouth of the wall, the crowd went absolutely wild, and as the tall figure stepped into the lights, he was immediately concealed by people greeting him. I remained by the door, determined to keep my distance, though I had to admit that I was curious; he must have changed a great deal in ten years. But it was impossible for us to see. Aaron had disappeared into the crowd, and mama was standing on her toes, trying to get a small glimpse of the man, muttering about the thick crowd, wondering bitterly if they had not anything better to do than to attack the poor man as if he was a piece of meat.

Aaron returned from the crowd, disappointed. He had not been able to see a thing. He sat down on the stairs and crossed his arms and pouted his mouth. Oh, he was very disappointed, indeed. I bend down to comfort the boy.

"Oh, don't you worry," I told him. "You'll have plenty of time to see him tomorrow, for he won't leave for some days, will he?"

"No," Aaron muttered. "But he will be busy chasing criminals every day!"

"Oh, but you know, even Heroes must rest." I slightly nudged the boy's shoulder, and smiled at him. Suddenly, a black dog came running towards us, its tail wiggling vigorously. I gasped. "Oh, get away! Be gone!"

"No!" Aaron suddenly cried out and stood to stop me. "That's Wolfsblade's dog! That's Shadow!" He turned to the furry animal. "Hello there, Shadow! Hello, boy!" He reached out his small hand, and I gasped.

"Oh, Aaron, be careful!" mama cried as she, too, had noticed the dog. "It might bite you!"

"Shadow!" A dark, demanding voice called, and I looked up. The Hero had broken free from his crowd, in the pursuit of his dog, and came marching straight towards us. I had to admit that I was slightly taken aback; he was nothing like I remembered him. His face was scarred and aged, yet still so very handsome, with brooding steel eyes surveying the area, and with a brown, rounded goatee on his chin. His hair was still as I remembered it; brown and shaggy, and even ended in a long, thick braid at his neck—the Warrior's Tail, as it was called, I had heard, signifying his endless victories in battle—covered by a Highwayman hat. He was tall, much, much taller than I remembered him, and his size signified that he surely could break a man's skull with one hand. He was respectable, to say the least, and the bare thought of what he could do to his enemies made my attempts of heroism look puny.

He bowed graciously as he approached us. "Do forgive my furry companion," he smiled. "He can't help it."

Mama was beside herself. "Oh—Mr Wolfsblade! What an _honour_!"

"Wow!" Aaron cried as he gazed upon the tall man. "You're a _real Hero_!"

"So I've been told," Wolfsblade chuckled.

I withdrew towards the door, not knowing what to think or say. I was astonished by his change; surely, he was very handsome. Almost dangerously handsome, in his rugged Hero manner. But I was also so very angry, for putting my own hard work into comparison with that of a real Hero.

"My lady," he said to my mother as he bowed, "to whom do I owe the pleasure?"

Mama was blushing violently. "Oh, it's—I'm Sarah. This is my husband Ian—oh, for Avo's sake, Ian, speak, at least!"

My father said his greetings and then retired to silence.

Mother continued her introduction. "This is my son Aaron—"

"Can you really do magic? Like, _real _magic?"

"And this is my daughter Ar—where are you?" She turned about to look for me, and when she saw me standing by the door, she immediately grabbed my arm and pulled me in front, so that I came shamefully close to the Hero. "This is my daughter," mother sighed out, "Ariana."

The steel eyes of the Hero settled upon mine, and I could not help but to blush and look away. "How do you do, sir?" I curtsied, like a lady, and kept a low voice.

As he looked at me, studied my full frame, he seemed very pleased as a smile spread across his lips. "Ariana, it is? Well, I won't forget that name, I can assure you." I felt his eyes linger for a moment before he addressed my mother. "Once again, I apologise for my dog. He is easily distracted."

"Oh, don't mention it!" mother said with a smile. "No harm was done; I am sure your dog is perfectly amiable!"

He gave one last nod of appreciation as he called for his dog to follow, and wandered away from our house. People followed him as he went, but he seemed none the wiser of it.

Mama squealed happily as the Hero had gone out of sight. "Oh, isn't he _handsome_? And so _civil_, too! I assure you, that he has changed!"

I, however, was far too enraged and embarrassed to gratify my mother by agreeing. I turned to her, cheeks glowing, as I squared my shoulders. "How could you do that, mother? Embarrass me like that?"

"Come, come, dear," said mama with a dismissive tone. "Don't be silly. He _liked_ you, I could tell! Oh, you should definitely dress in your fine clothes and go into town! He will certainly pay you attention now."

"Mama!" I cried. "I do not want his attention! When will you get that into your head?"

As father and Aaron went back inside and again retired to their activities, mother and I went about the kitchen to tidy up for the night. Mama kept talking about how agreeable she thought the Hero was, and how handsome and complying he was.

"Oh, I think," said mama after a long speech about his countenance, "that I would find him just as agreeable, had he not been a Hero. There's certainly an air of… manliness, of him! If only your father had been the same… oh well, I shan't dwell on the past. But _you_, my dear Ariana, you have a chance! And just as good a chance as any, I dare say!"

I rolled my eyes. "Mama, I don't _want_ him. I don't care how agreeable or handsome he is; he is not for me, and that's the end of it."

"Oh, don't be silly!" mother cried. "He's every woman's dream! Every _sane_ woman, that is! Or, maybe you don't fancy men at all? That would explain a lot!"

Rolling my eyes, I headed for the stairs. "I'm going to bed. I'll leave you to your thoughts." I heard my mother call back for me, but I ignored her as I went into my small chambers and lay down on my bed with a sigh. Even though I detested the man, I still could not deny that he surely _was_ very handsome, and despite his inappropriate looks he _had _been very civil. Quite frankly, I had nothing to complain about concerning his civility. He had behaved perfectly well, and it vexed me. Suddenly, I heard mother call for me once again. This time, she brought words that Mary had come to call upon me. So I went down again, only to find Mary in the kitchen. She was very finely dressed, with nice paint in her face and I could tell that she had spent a great deal of time preparing her hair, for it was as nice a hairdo I had ever seen on her. "Why, Mary, is there something wrong?"

Mary shook her head. "Oh, will you not come with me? In to town? There will be such festivities, and it would be a shame if you were to miss them!"

"See now, dear," mother said. "You have a friend that cares a great deal about you! I suggest you gratify that sensibility and go with her!"

"But mama—"

"You have to go out and enjoy yourself once in a while, Ariana dear!" mother cried. "I've already laid out a dress for you. Now, go on! Go and dress!"

I sighed and followed my mother's orders. Arguing seemed pointless at this stage.


	3. Chapter II

**A/N: **I am releasing the second chapter, to give you all a bit more meat to the bones. To those of you who have already found and enjoyed this story; I thank you! :)

Now, here comes the second chapter!

Enjoy!

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**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter II**

The Cow and Corset was filled to the brim to say the least, and especially where the Hero was seated. Mary was awfully busy working up her courage to go and see him, and I wished nothing but to be gone. However, I had promised to stay with Mary, and I was a woman of my words.

"Oh, I can't believe I don't dare go over to him!" Mary cried. "But he is looking very handsome tonight, is he not?"

"Yes," I sighed tiresomely, "very handsome, indeed."

"But look at Felicity! Look at her silk dress!" Mary was beside herself of jealousy. "Where did she get that?! Oh, how awful she is, that Felicity! Nothing special, no, nothing at all. She looks rather plain if you ask me. But that dress… it's a shame it is to be worn by someone like _Felicity_!"

"Seems like you're rather jealous of her, Mary," I teased.

"Oh, no, on the contrary!" Mary cried. "I pity her! For being so deluded as to believe her looks would do that gorgeous dress justice!"

"Mary, don't be cruel," I said.

"Oh, but you look very nice tonight, Ariana." Mary observed my attire, my hair and my paint.

I thanked her dearly and could not help but to feel slightly proud. Yes, I had been extra careful while painting my face, and I had used the new corset instead of the old and worn one. This one was much more stable and hugged my figure much better. The dress mama had lain out was indeed my best; green muslin with fine silk details. It was a very nice dress, indeed, tailored by my father. I was thinking to myself that I looked rather nice tonight. Though, my hair was not as nice as I would wish it to be, for I tried my hardest not to make it look like Scarlet Rogue's hair, and eventually I simply laid it in a most plain long braid, though keeping some of the hair loose at the front. Though it looked tolerably well, it was not something exceedingly pretty. But then again, I was not seeking anyone's attention, so all worry was in vain.

Mary gave a squeal as the Hero rose from his seat to walk to the bar, and suddenly turned around so that the Hero could see her better. She straightened her back, pushed out her bosom and raised her chin, and as the Hero turned again, he surely did lay his eyes on our table, but not on Mary, no, for the Hero had laid his steel eyes on me.

Embarrassed and suddenly intimidated, I looked away and pretended as if I had not seen him at all, but it would not do.

"Miss Ariana?" he smiled as he nodded. He was not as civil now as he had been in front of my mother and father, when he was all civility and chivalry.

"Mr Wolfsblade." I tried my best to sound as unmoved as possible, but it was quite difficult when Mary was jumping up and down by excitement, yearning to know why the handsome Hero addressed me in such manner, when I so clearly had stated my disdain for the man.

The Hero smiled, rather crookedly and charmingly, though it did not fool me. "You look very fine tonight, Ariana."

"Thank you."

He motioned towards his large company. "Won't you join us? There's plenty of room, lots to eat and even more to drink. I'm sure we should be most entertained." There was an insidious tone in which he gave such a proposal, and though I did not fall for it, I could understand why other, slightly less confident women would.

"We would be delighted!" Mary was quick on her feet as she already knew my answer to the question, and the Hero nodded in satisfaction.

"I'm glad to hear it." He offered his arm, but I declined. Mary though, did not. She seemed perfectly content with being so close to the famous Hero. But the Hero waited for me to join them as well.

I sighed and rose, feeling my cheeks start to glow. "I'm afraid I will have to decline your invitation, sir. I am not feeling very well."

Wolfsblade tightened his brows. "Are you sure? Do you want me to walk you back?"

"Oh, no," I chuckled. "I can manage that on my own just fine, thank you."

He seemed a little distraught by this. "You sure?"

I nodded. "Quite sure."

"Well then," said the Hero and most rudely and arrogantly shook Mary off his arm, and reached for my hand. As I felt his calloused hand grasp mine, and bring it to his mouth to kiss is most gently, I blushed violently. "I hope you get well soon, Miss Ariana. I'd want the pleasure of seeing you again before I leave." When he had noticed my burning cheeks, a most impertinent smirk spread across his lips.

I quickly curtsied and said my goodbye's before I left the tavern. I _had_ promised Mary to stay, but surely she would understand my flight, since she knew what my opinion of the man himself was. I was quite convinced she would not find me disappointing in that sense. I only hoped she would have such good judgment as to not go to bed with the Hero, should he enquire it.

When I returned home, my mother was still awake. Of course to ask me how the evening went along, but I would have to disappoint her. I told her none of the Hero's attentions to me—that would fuel her all too much!—and I told her that it had been far too loud and far too many people for me to feel comfortable.

"Comfortable?" mother spat. "Oh never mind comfortable! You're not there to be comfortable! You're there to allure a man whose situation in life would secure yours for the rest of _your _life!"

I sighed heavily as I sank down on a chair. "Mama, you are most impossible! I do not wish to be the wife of a Hero! What have I ever done to deserve _that_?"

"Oh, my dear, you are just as deserving as any young woman," mother said, "if not even more so! Yes, I dare say that you might just be the _most_ deserving young woman! Such hard working girl with such clever mind! And so pretty, too! He should be a fool to let you go!"

Though I meant that remark as sarcastic, my mother did not care about it. "Mother," I said as calmly as my heart would allow, "I have decided, that the Hero is not the man for me. Nothing you or anyone can say will make me change my mind on that subject. I set my opinions of the man years ago, and it will take more than just a handsome face and a civil bow to change it."

"You are such a headstrong girl," mother sighed unhappily. "It will not do you good in the long run, I dare say."

"I beg to differ," I said as I rose again. "I believe _that_ to be my saving grace. Good night, mother. I'll see you in the morning." I did not like going to bed while still being in a quarrel with my mother, but I had no strength to continue, and fell right asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I did not get many hours of sleep before an alarming sound searched my ears and woke me up. It was a scream, a terribly cry somewhere in the distance. There were not many seconds of thought before I sprung to my feet and pulled out my attire, and within a minute, I had gone from tired Ariana to alarmed Scarlet Rogue. I did not have time to lay my hair as I used to, but let it be out, and I hurried out the window. The scream might have woken up the whole neighbourhood, but I was certainly the first one up. Jumping down the balcony, I heard that the cry came from outside the city walls, in the direction of Rookridge. Perhaps a poor girl had strayed from her way home and ended up in the claws of bandits.

I was quick on my feet as I hurried away, my sword safely tucked in its sheath on my back, and I heard as I disappeared into the darkness, how some people who had risen by the alarming cry, called for Scarlet Rogue, ecstatic that they had briefly seen the elusive heroine. But I did not turn to welcome their cheers.

I had never before fought bandits. Not eye to eye, at least. I had always set traps and lured them in. This would require a greater set of courage than I had ever had before. But there were not only bandits to worry about in Rookridge at night; Hobbes and occasionally even Balverines tended to walk the grounds after nightfall, and while I had had some experience slaying Hobbes, I was quite sure I would not stand a chance against a Balverine.

The cry was quite near Bowerstone, not even as far as Rookridge. I slowed my pace to a silent creeping, with my sword raised above my head. I could hear voices, and a most foul language as I came nearer, and it was beyond any doubt that I was dealing with bandits. I heard cries from a girl and as I peeked over a set of shrubberies, I could see a young woman being forcefully and most indecently manhandled. Half her dress was torn open, and she struggled to keep their dirty hands away from her body. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage as I leapt over the shrubberies and attacked the bandits with my sword brandished high. They all stopped to look at me for a second.

"Isn't that—well, isn't it Scarlet Rogue?" one of the bandits sneered.

"I will give you a chance, gentlemen," said I. "Let the girl go, and I might let you all live tonight."

The men laughed, and within two seconds, they were all focusing on me. My strengths were neither swinging hard nor swinging fast, but I knew my sword and I was light on my feet, and as a result I managed to at least cut and bruise some of the bandits. The girl had long fled, and the bandits paid her no attention as all their full attentions were directed to me. They were determined to beat me, and I was determined to survive. They were many, and I fought vigorously, with the sweat of my brow and with the pain in my body, but in the end they simply were too many. They had me surrounded, but I would not surrender. I growled at my opponents, showed them my teeth as I crunched down and readied myself to strike. But there was no need, for suddenly, a blinding lightening struck down amongst the bandits, and they all scattered, some still stirring violently on the ground while electric currents passed through their bodies until they were completely still. Then Wolfsblade appeared in the dark, his hands vibrating with electricity and glowing thin, blue lines lightened his whole body. I stood back, partly too surprised and amazed, and partly intimidated. The few bandits that survived his electrical attack launched at him, but he cut them down easily with his massive sword, and the last one was brutally attacked and ultimately killed by the big, black dog Shadow.

When the enemies were vanquished, he turned to me. I would much rather just disappear, but unluckily, he was between me and my way back, and behind me stood nothing but solid rock. "So, you must be Scarlet Rogue," he said. "I've heard great things about you."

"Oh, I wouldn't do anything unless it was great indeed," I replied and sheathed my sword.

"Do you consider this 'great'?" He looked around as a scornful smirk tainted his face.

I crossed my arms with a most displeased sneer. "I had it perfectly under control, thank you very much. I tend to _not_ kill criminals, though, but bring them to justice."

He huffed most arrogantly. "Of course you do. I would've wanted to see you kill any of those men right there. Forgive me, but I doubt your ability there, my sweet."

"I am not your 'sweet', you obnoxious beast!" I growled, something I disliked doing. But being Scarlet Rogue meant getting to do things I otherwise would find most inappropriate, such as offending the great Hero.

But he laughed. "Aye, I am a beast!" His grey eyes swept over me much like they had earlier that evening, but this time I feared he might be thinking different thoughts. "A beast, indeed… in many ways, my dearest Rogue."

I blushed at his most inappropriate manner, but thank Avo for my mask, for it hid most of it and I believe the rest was fairly hidden by the dark. "Oh, how gallant; a Hero who admits his faults. Allow me to applaud you, my good sir!"

My sarcasm had not gone unnoticed, for I saw a change in his countenance, and he took a step closer to me. "What about you, then? A masked Heroine? The saviour of Bowerstone? How come I haven't run into you before, or even heard of you? Or perhaps," he let out a sigh as he most casually crossed his arms, "you're not a Hero? Not really?"

I let my arms drop and straightened my body. Though I lacked extraordinary height and size, I still had an air of confidence to give. "Oh, I believe myself to be a Hero, in every sense of the word."

At this, he laughed and settled his hands on his hips. "Oh dear, you seem deluded, indeed."

"Mind you, I am perfectly aware of where I stand on this subject," replied I with calmness. "Bowerstone suffered tremendously when you were away. It seems like your presence simply made the people forget how to manage things on their own, and when you abandoned them, they simply didn't know what to do. Well, not _everybody_ let your Heroism lead them astray."

He pulled his brows together as his face turned into an angry scowl. "I didn't abandon them! I help the people of Bowerstone, and I always have! Who are _you_ to come and tell _me_ otherwise? Had it not been for me, you would have bled tonight, after being ravished by bandits, and died in the darkness, shamed and alone!"

"And had it not been for _me_, an innocent girl would have suffered the same fate!" I cried as I tensed my body and took a step forward. "I am fully aware of the risks I am taking by saving the lives of others, and I am ready to face the consequences of it. If I would have died tonight, I would have died fighting for what I think is right, and had I survived it, without _your_ help, I would not have bragged about it, but considered it a bonus for doing right by others!" My chest heaved for air as I furiously tightened my fists. "That more than could even be said about you!" I readied to stride past the offended Hero, but he would not allow me to pass and grabbed hold of my arm, rather viciously, and pulled me to face him.

"How dare you?" In the pale light of the moon, his snarl was most frightening, and I had to recuperate rather quickly before he would notice my moment of weakness. "I would not be as big-mouthed as you are, young lady, if I were you. One day, a _Hero_ won't be there to save you."

The crushing grip of his hand around my arm caused me to slightly frown instead of giving a witty and clever reply, and though he very much knew what strength he applied, he did not let go. Instead, he pulled me even closer, and his malevolent expression surely intensified my intimidation to the point where I actually gasped, much to my own dissatisfaction. "Sir, you're hurting me!"

"Oh, so you are clever enough to call me 'sir' now, are you?" barked he as he released me in such violent manner as to make me fall to the ground and land on my bottom. "I do not want to see you here ever again. You time is now past, Scarlet Rogue." He glared upon me for another moment before he turned away and called furiously after his dog. The black dog though seemed none the wiser of his anger.

I remained on the ground for some time while thinking through the events that had passed. More than once had I growled to myself, "hateful man!" and shed a tear or two. When all was done and over with, I returned to my home and threw myself into bed. Surely enough, I had saved a woman's life tonight. I, a commoner, a _woman_, had done my duty as fellow creature and saved an innocent life. Even though I had not beaten the bandits, I had proved to be a force to be reckoned with, and even though Wolfsblade had most clearly stated that he did not want to see me again, my courage was rising. He would not intimidate me to the point where I would stop helping the people of Albion, just because he told me to. Wolfsblade had no power over me, and he would surely feel the effects of it.

It was with a smile that I fell asleep that night, with a determination and with a conviction, that was as strong as it had ever been.


	4. Chapter III

**A/N: **Well, I'll continue to push out chapters, hoping it will please some, at least :) I must admit that they are very entertaining to write, just because they differ so much from what I typically write, and it's good with a change from time to time. I just hope they will bring you as much pleasure as they do me.

Also, the look of the Hero is basically from a drawing I did some time ago, found here; fav . me / d4n2gc7 (just remove the spaces!)

Enjoy!

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**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter III**

It had been a rather long time since I had had a work free day, and I was most pleased by it now, for Mary had a free day, too. It was a beautiful day and Mary and I had made ourselves a lovely picnic down by Bower Lake. Though Mary found it rather ominous to travel around Bower Lake, I had no problem with the arrangement and carried my clockwork pistol as protection. Beetles had been our most common enemy, and while Mary had shrieked and hid behind my back, I had easily shot them to pieces before continuing. We had met a lovely Sheriff promising us to keep an eye on us as we settled down by the beach, enjoying our blueberry pies.

"Really, Ariana, you should have stayed," Mary stated, "for he would simply not stop asking me about you! Pray, how come you and him are so acquainted, when you hate the man?"

I gave a tiresome sigh before I started to explain to her our unfortunate encounter at his arrival, and while Mary seemed utterly jealous, I wished it nothing but undone. The mere thought of the Hero's behaviour on the night of his arrival was repulsive, and it only made his civility some hours before seem even more disgusting. It was all a deceptive veneer, a performance to attain as many partners as he possibly could. I was quite convinced that the man was on a personal quest of disgracing every young woman in Bowerstone.

"He was really upset about your departure, you know," Mary continued. "He wanted to run after you to make sure you would not fall on your head on your way home! Oh, how I laughed! _You_? Fall on your head? Oh, what a good joke that was! If only he had known you as well as I he would have laughed as well!"

"Well, I'm in no interest of his good graces," said I, "and neither should he be of mine. He will soon realise that giving me attention is just a waste of time."

"I told him the same thing," said Mary, and it surprised me—and for some peculiar reason, also horrified me. "I told him, that you are a curious girl who does not take well on men's attention, and that you are much fonder of adventures and swords than of men and love." As I glared at Mary, the girl gasped horrified. "Oh dear! You don't think I was inappropriate, do you? Please, forgive me! I only thought of your distain for the man!"

"You told him I enjoyed adventures and swords over men and love?" I asked while trying to compose myself. "You said that, to a _Hero_?"

At first, Mary seemed ignorant of the absurdities she had claimed about me, but then it dawned on her, and she burst out giggling. "Oh, how silly of me! But of course, a _Hero_ is always on adventures, and wields a sword! Oh Lord, just think of what he will think of you now! He might be as attached to you as ever! Oh, what a good joke! I am perfectly jealous!"

"And I am perfectly convinced that we could change his interest," I smiled at my friend, "and perhaps even bend it to your benefit."

Mary giggled delightfully. "Should I just get a kiss on the hand form the Hero, I should be very content, indeed." She had a sip from the table wine we had brought with us, after which she gasped. "But have you _seen_ John these days? How utterly changed he is! I would not have called him handsome two months ago, but now! Oh Lord, how he is changed!"

I laughed dearly at my friend who could scarcely go a minute without talking of men. However, I was fairly delighted that the focus had changed from the Hero to a much more amiable man.

As the day went along, we had a jolly good time. The Sheriff walked by a few times to chat and to have a piece of pie, and we had even had some company by a young gypsy boy who was grateful beyond words when we offered him a piece of Mary's chocolate cake. He was so grateful that he sat down and played us a tune on his flute. I tossed the boy a coin before he went away with a most gracious bow.

We were ready to return back towards the city, for the dusk was upon us, when there was a bark from the distance, and the black dog, Shadow, came running towards us. I pretended as if I had no idea whose dog it was, and hurried Mary for our return, but she insisted upon staying, for the Hero was coming.

"He could accompany us back," she said, "for the dark will fall rather soon, and it would be most dangerous for us to walk back on our own!"

I had scarcely time to reply before the Hero appeared. "Ladies!" he greeted us with a smile. "Having a picnic, I see. A rather risky place for such occasion, don't you think?"

"Oh, but Ariana here wields a pistol, you see!" Mary replied. "And the Sheriff has been most kind to us and kept any ruffian away! We've had a most delightful time!"

The Hero smiled at her before he settled his eyes on me, and I looked away. "Miss Ariana," he started, "I assume you are feeling a bit better today?"

Forced by civility to look at him, I smiled. "Yes sir, I'm quite better, thank you."

"I'm very glad to hear it," said he, and his expression could not have been more different from that of last night. I was much surprised. But I could not yet forget his rude and improper manner, and tried to seem as indifferent as possible. "Were you ladies on your way back to town?"

"Yes," Mary answered delightfully. "We were just packing up! Are you on your way too, sir?"

He smiled. "Yes, I was on my way back from Brightwood. It's a shame you are to leave now, though. The sunset over Bower Lake is spectacular. Not many people dare travel here to see it, but I've always found it very therapeutic and spectacular."

"Oh, but we can stay for a bit longer, can we not, Ariana?" Mary looked at me with an inviting smile.

Though I wanted to be rid of the man, I could not oppose her yearning brown eyes, and I surrendered. "I suppose we could stay for a _bit_. Not long, though. I promised to be home by dark."

"Not to worry," said the Hero. "I promise that you ladies will return safely to your homes." He then took a seat by us and made himself comfortable, and in the golden sunlight, I had to admit that he even looked rather harmonious, even though his scars haunted his face and though his steel eyes were as brooding as ever. I could even reach as far as claiming him as very handsome. But a lot of people were handsome, and that did not necessarily make them good people. "I spent some of my happiest years on these shores," he said as he gazed over the glittering water. "There is not one place in Albion where I feel more at home."

"I think it's very amiable," said Mary, "that a famous person like you, Mr Wolfsblade, is humble enough to treasure such places, for many people as rich and famous as you—though I doubt there are many—would never consider this place as worthy of their time."

The Hero chuckled. "Well, I thank you very much, Miss Mary. Well, I hail from a most humble life, and I would wish to neither change nor hide it."

Mary was most entranced by the Hero, but I could not believe a word he was saying. Yes, I knew he came from Old Town, as well and Mary and I, but he did not seem the least humble, and there were scarcely one thing he would be able to do or say to change my mind, except for providing me the apology I deserved. However, he did not know I was the heroine he had behaved so disgustingly towards.

"Miss Ariana," said the Hero suddenly, "I should very much like to learn more about your pistol, for I am very curious. I have to admit, that you are the first lady I meet in Bowerstone that wields a gun."

I smiled politely. "I don't find it very strange at all that a woman should wield a weapon in order to keep herself safe."

"No strange at all," Wolfsblade agreed. "I think it's very wise. I am impressed that you've taken it upon yourself to secure your own safety. Or is there someone who has taught you how to use it?"

"No," I replied. "My father's a tailor and has not carried a weapon since he was in the militia, many years ago now, and my mother is against all kind of weaponry. At least for women."

Wolfsblade looked at me with peculiar interest, and he smiled. "Then you must be a very strong woman, indeed."

"Oh yes, but I think all women are strong in one way or another," I said. "Don't you agree, Mary? We have a lot to carry, no matter what role we choose to take in life."

Mary seemed rather confused as she swung her attention between me and Wolfsblade. "Oh, well… yes, quite so. We are all strong, in some sense."

"I am delighted to hear it," said Wolfsblade. His eyes lingered on me for a moment before he looked out over the lake again. "Now, ladies, behold the true magic of the Bower Lake sunset."

We followed his instructions and gazed out over the lake, and it was beautiful, indeed. The setting sun cast a deep orange glow upon us all, and I could admit that the Hero was right by saying it was magical, for it truly was.

As the sun had set, and twilight was upon us, the Hero helped us to pack our things into our basket, and even carried it for us as we headed back towards town. The dog, Shadow, had taken a keen interest in Mary and demanded her attention, and Mary was most fond of animals and ran ahead as she played fetch with the black dog, leaving me and Wolfsblade quite alone.

"I must say, Miss Ariana," he started, "that I surely missed your company last night."

"That is unfortunate to hear," said I. "You do not know what my company contributes with, and therefore, you might have been spared the boredom, had it not been to your liking."

He chuckled. "Such nonsense! Not to my liking? No, I have enjoyed your company rather a lot, I dare say. You seem to be a very sensible girl, and I find that difficult to come by these days."

"I must thank you, sir," I replied. "I rarely hear someone call me 'sensible'."

Again, he chuckled. "People must be both blind and ignorant, then. You seem very mature and wise for such young an age, indeed. Pray, what is your age?"

"I am eighteen years old, sir," said I, hoping that he might perhaps find me a bit too young, though that seemed rather unlikely.

"A rose barely sprung from the ground," he said, "though already in blossom. A rarity, indeed."

I blushed lightly at this very flattering comment, and smiled shyly. But I suddenly remembered how vile he had behaved the night before, and immediately recuperated. He would not charm me—oh no!—for I was determined to hate him for the rest of my life.

"Miss Ariana," he said as he suddenly stopped in his tracks. I too stopped and looked at him. "May I ask if you have any settled engagements for tomorrow evening?"

Completely shocked, I struggled to find an excuse. "I… well, I… I'm sorry, but yes. I am engaged for tomorrow evening."

He gave a nod as he continued walking, and I followed his example. "That is indeed a shame to hear. I wanted to take you to take you out on a short adventure. But I suppose that will have to wait."

I chuckled. "An adventure? Well sir, that is surprising, to say the least."

"Miss Mary said you enjoyed adventures," said he. "I thought you might enjoy experiencing a real one."

"That is very thoughtful, indeed," I said, but doubted that his idea of an adventure would be to my satisfaction, considering what a _beast_ he was, and had admitted himself to be. "However, my set engagements cannot be broken."

Mary then joined us again, fully out of breath and with reddened cheeks after the exercise. "Oh, I shan't need to move much after this, I dare say!"

The Hero gave her a polite smile, but said nothing more.

Upon entering town, Wolfsblade immediately attracted a crowd and while Mary boasted in the situation of being included in the Hero's small company, I detached myself rather quickly to evade all speculations. Let Mary have the attentions, for I cared not for them. But I had not gone far before the Hero had broken free from the crowd to come after me. Whatever magic he had preformed, left the crowd much confused, as they could not understand where their beloved Hero had gone.

"Miss Ariana?" he called after me.

Wishing it not to be real, I came to a halt and turned to him. "Yes, Mr Wolfsblade?"

"You never gave me a chance to say goodbye," said he and gave me an apologetic smile. "I believe I could not have spent my afternoon in a more rewarding company than yours."

"Mr Wolfsblade," I chuckled, "you give me far too much credit, I dare say. I believe Mary is the one you should give thanks to and not me."

He raised a brow as he chuckled warmly. "Oh, Miss Mary is a dear girl, but surely you must know the reason I stayed with you."

"Oh, the sunset, of course," I smiled.

While it was certainly not the answer the Hero had hoped for, he chuckled again. "Yes, the sunset was a pretty view, indeed. Though, it was not the _only_ pretty view in sight."

I surely felt very flattered by the Hero's fine compliments, but when having seen his true nature, I could not rejoice in them. "You are most kind, sir. I had a lovely day. Now, if you excuse me, I really have to go." I curtsied and did not wait for Wolfsblade to answer. I was flattered and angered at the same time. Surely, all the other girls would be most jealous if they ever leant to know the Hero's admiration for me, but I was the only girl who did not want him, so his admiration would be rather fruitless.

When I returned home, mama was much eager to know how my day had been. I told her it had been very pleasant. I told her of the Sheriff and the gypsy boy, but concealed our meeting with the Hero, and when she was satisfied, we began making dinner. Papa returned just in time, and Aaron returned from mischief in Bowerstone Cemetery. His favourite activity these days was apparently to vex the poor old Demon Door by the Cemetery, calling it names and teasing it for its poor speech. I had told him many times to respect such old and magical beings, but my brother was a child, and children tended not to listen to their older siblings. By the dinner table, he told us all about his adventures with his friend Miles.

"And Miles slew the dreaded dragon and saved the Princess from the evil Lord Victor!"

While mother applauded him for very nice dinner entertainment, and while father encouraged him to try new things, I was the only one to worry. "Did you make fun of that poor gravekeeper again?"

Aaron shifted in his seat, a pink shade of guilt illuminating his face. "No."

"Aaron?" I glared at my brother, and as always, his guilt gave him away.

"But… but… but we barely saw the man, anyway!" Aaron cried. "Besides, it wasn't me, I promise! It was Miles! _He _was the one who kicked the chicken!"

"You kicked chickens!" I gasped. "Aaron!"

"Oh, leave the boy be," sighed mother. "He's only eleven."

"Yes, and that means it's time to learn _not_ to kick chickens!" replied I. "They are innocent animals and require much more respect."

"Oh, and did you know what Miles said?" Aaron continued, without caring one bit of what I had said. "He said, that the Demon Door will open if we kick a chicken at him, for it wants living meat!"

"_Aaron_!" I barked. "Stop this nonsense! Mama! Do something! Don't just sit there and _let _him torture poor animals like this! Papa?"

"Perhaps your sister is right, my boy," papa finally admitted. "Now, I kicked chicken as well when I was your age. They seem… rather fit for it, in all honesty—perfect shape, perfect size, and it's jolly good fun as well, and—"

"Papa!"

"Right, sorry… but to kick a chicken towards that Demon Door as _living bait_, now, that's not the manner I want my children to have." Father gave my younger brother that piercing glare over his glasses, and Aaron looked away. "Now, I don't want you to go near that Demon Door again, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Aaron muttered.

Papa nodded. "Good. Now, my dear girls, dinner was delicious."

"Thank you, my love," said mama and gave papa a sweet peck on the cheek.

As the night went ahead, mother and I cleared up in the kitchen while father and Aaron retired to their activities, as every night before. It was all very calm, very serene, when Aaron suddenly burst out from his room, that he saw the Hero outside his window. I stiffened and prayed to Avo he had not come here to see me.

Aaron was quick on his feet and hurried out the door with mother tailing him. I stayed inside, and kept tending to the dishes. But mama was far too concerned with having me matched with the Hero, and hurried inside to pull me along to the front yard. The Hero had stopped out on the streets, and it was most certainly too late for any of our neighbours to notice the Hero's unexpected arrival. Aaron was petting Shadow, and the Hero stood looking at the pair with a smile. I was then very pleased to see that he did not seem to have come for my sake, but were heading somewhere else.

Wolfsblade looked up from the boy and the dog and noticed me and mother out on the front yard, and his smile grew wider. "Miss Ariana."

I curtsied but said nothing.

"How do you do this evening, Mr Wolfsblade?" mother inquired.

"Very well, thank you ma'am," replied Wolfsblade. "I was just on my way to the Cemetery. Apparently there is a problem with the… inhabitants."

When mother seemed most incomprehensive, I leaned to tell her, "he means Hollow Men, mama."

She gasped and reached to cover her mouth with her hands. "No! Oh, Mr Wolfsblade, they won't be coming here, will they?"

The Hero gave her a comforting headshake. "No, ma'am. I will keep the dead amongst the dead, I swear it."

Mother was far too distressed though, but the Hero's word seemed to comfort her to some extent, and she placed her hands on her heaving bosom. "I feel so much safer with you here, Mr Wolfsblade! I have always said, I have, that it takes a _Hero_ to keep the dead in their graves! A gravekeeper? Ha! What a joke! A Hero, I say!"

Wolfsblade chuckled, seemingly a bit restless by this intermission. "I can assure you, ma'am, that you are perfectly safe here, and I am sure there is no larger problem to worry about." He laid his eyes on me for a moment before his countenance lightened up. "I will even dare to invite your lovely daughter to accompany me to the Cemetery—that is how safe I believe it to be."

While I stiffened and felt suddenly out of breath, mother squealed highly. "Oh, sir! That is a dangerous proposal, indeed! But, I suppose she would be in no harm while being with _you_—"

"But mama!" I pleaded silently as I turned to her. I did not want to go with him.

"Don't be rude, Ariana!" mother ordered. "Mr Wolfsblade had been kind enough to ask you to accompany him! And you like these sorts of things now, don't you? So, now, go! Go on! Oh, but don't forget your coat, dearest! It's quite chilly outside!"

"Or perhaps," said the Hero in a challenging tone, "you find it too intimidating?"

Huffing, I crossed my arms. "I certainly do not, sir. The Undead do not scare me."

"Then by all means," he smiled, "come with me."

With the Hero patiently waiting and with mother literally pushing me out the house, it seemed as if I had no other choice. I put on my brown long coat that mother handed me and reluctantly joined the Hero by his side.

"Oh, can I come, as well?" Aaron asked, and while I dearly wanted to say yes, please do, mother barked at him to come inside this very instant. And as it was, I was now alone with Wolfsblade, about to enter Bowerstone Cemetery after dark.


	5. Chapter IV

**A/N: **Well, I know there are some followers, so I'll keep on posting :) Please, let me know what you think!

Enjoy!

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**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter IV**

It was eerily quiet on the Cemetery Road that night, and I was more concerned about my company than I was about the darkness that awaited. Hollow Men were frequent enemies of mine, and I had, since obtaining my precious katana, used the Undead as practice. Oh, they did not frighten me. It was the man on my left that frightened me the most; while the Undead had brittle bones and possessed neither speed nor precision, the Hero possessed enough of them both to do with me as he pleased. I was unarmed, and though I did not doubt his intensions of simple mindless disposing of the Undead—as I was quite sure this was all just a way for the Hero to entertain himself when he was sick of all the girls—I could scarcely trust his temper, for I had seen the Hero in battle, and I had seen how greatly it had changed him, and not for the better. But he seemed to be in fairly good spirit as we walked towards the gates.

"I hope you do not find me too bold for asking you to come," said he. "I thought, that since I would not have the pleasure of seeing you tomorrow evening, I might as well make it tonight."

"So that was your design all along then, sir?" I asked. "And not to keep the Undead at bay?"

He chuckled. "You are a sharp girl, indeed."

"That, I am," I agreed.

"Well, I won't offend your clever mind by telling you a lie," said the Hero. "Indeed I had hoped on gaining your attention by walking by your house. It's rather luckily situated, if you don't mind me saying it, for small adventures. With the Cemetery so close by and with Rookridge Road just outside the city walls, the inhabitants are indeed bound to witness small adventures."

"I admit," said I, "that I have witnessed a fair share of extraordinary things during the course of my life. Though I have not sought my way to the Cemetery after dark just for mindless killing."

He barked a laugh, and quite frankly, it was loud and vicious enough to startle me. "Don't lie to me and tell me you haven't practiced you accuracy skills on the Undead, Ariana. It is the perfect target; slow and ignorant. You have time to shoot it three times before it notices you, and then you've had enough time to make a perfect aim at its head."

"Why three?"

"First, you shoot its hands off—that's two bullets—and then you want its attention, so you shoot it in the back, or in the rib case, or wherever you like." Wolfsblade seemed perfectly at ease talking about where to shoot an enemy for best—and cruellest—effect, and did not at all seem to notice my uneasiness on the subject. He chuckled. "But I am perfectly sure you'll do just fine. Which reminds me…" He came to a halt right outside the iron gates and looked at me as he pulled out a black, rather handsome looking pistol with golden details and handed it to me. "That's _Haraash_. It means 'ghost maker' in Samarkand. It's rather heavy, but has a steady aim."

I stared most astonished at the beautiful weapon. I did not dare touch it, fearing I might break it. "Sir, I can't take that!" I looked up at him with pleading eyes. Oh, Avo forbid if I in any way broke the Hero's pistol!

He smiled. "Don't be silly, Ariana. I trust your abilities. Besides, this particular weapon contains very special magic; it will drain any enemy of life while giving it to you."

It was with shaking hands that I accepted the beautiful craftsmanship. He did not in any way over-rate its weight, as I nearly dropped it, for it was certainly heavy, and physical strength had never been my virtue.

He laughed heartily. "Can you lift it?"

Feeling a light tingle of vexation, I determinedly lifted the pistol, though it was heavy, and held it with both hands. "Sir, don't patronize me for my sex. I am perfectly capable of holding a gun."

He seemed rather amused by me as he advanced to the gates and pushed them open with an awful sound. The fog lay thick along the ground, tops of gravestones sticking up from it, and it looked remarkably eerie. Though I had never feared the dark, this was quite unnerving. With a light sound coming from my right, I took a leap to my left, unintentionally causing me to spring right into the Hero's side, and in one second, I found myself attached to him by a mighty arm, and a chest, vibrating with laughter, shook against my shoulder blades and spread through my body.

"You seem rather uneasy, Miss Ariana," he chuckled, with a low voice, rumbling like thunder, vibrating through me.

Detaching myself from the man in a hurry, I couldn't help but to feel my cheeks burn. Oh, how impudently done of him! To hold me like that? Most improper, indeed! He seemed though none the wiser of the insolence he had preformed. Or he simply didn't mind for it, at all. Perhaps he was so used to treating women like that, he did not put much thought into his own actions, be they gentlemanlike or be they rude.

"Come now, Miss Ariana," said he. "We need to find these skeletons and be done with it."

We did not have to walk much further before glowing wisps started to surround us and ominously clash into the ground, and where the beautiful wisp landed, a hideous Undead arose. Shadow growled viciously, and Wolfsblade barked a laugh and unsheathed his massive sword, and I took a step back and raised the rather heavy pistol. My aim was as good as always, and I had to admit, that the instrument in my hands was by far the deadliest and most enchanting piece of work I had ever held in my hands. I could feel the tingling sensation of the magic as life ran into my body from my hands, and one after one did the Undead fall, shattering into pieces as their wailing souls were set free at last.

But there were more of them than I had ever seen before, and in the middle of a large herd, stood the Hero. I must admit that I was slightly worried that he might not make it out of it alive, but as the dark was filled with a burning light, the Hero roared as he released a wave of fire, exterminating the surrounding Undead. I was astonished by the power he held, by the power he released, and forgot for a moment that I was, myself, in grave danger, and had I waited a second more, a great, rusty cleaver would have split me in half. But as it was, I succeeded to swing the heavy weapon and fire a well aimed shot towards the skeleton, and it shattered before me.

The Hero rushed towards me, and there was real worry in his eyes—flattering in a sense, but also terribly vexing—and he grabbed my arm. "Ariana! Are you hurt?"

"No," I answered in a tone as easy as my voice could bestow.

He sighed, the lines of Will still glowing vigorously across his body. His hold was not as vicious as it had been the night before, when he did not know it was me he acted so abominably ill towards, but it was certainly as strong. "Perhaps this was a mistake, Miss Ariana. I should have known my presence would call for more disturbance than there was in the beginning."

I had so smile, though I would much rather cry out in anger. "Don't flatter yourself, Mr Wolfsblade, for they might be here for me." I felt admiring eyes on me as the forceful hand around my arm slowly pulled me in. With a slight huff, I subtly battled myself out of his grip and I walked past the man and further into the graveyard. More wisps were coming, and as I stood ready, I was not quite ready for the enormous Undead that would rise before me. With a horned helmed and with two great weapons in each hand, the skeleton towered over me with such stature, I gasped. This was something I had never encountered before.

I felt a violent pull as Wolfsblade pulled me back and almost tossed me behind himself. "Stand back, Miss Ariana. This one is not very pleasant."

I did as told, too intimidated by the terrifying Undead to do otherwise. It was a Mage. And Undead Mage, desperately trying to be rid of the Hero. Their battle was great, indeed, and I found myself gasping whenever the great Hero fell. But he always rose again, and with a final cut with his blade, he vanquished the great Undead, and when the wailing of its soul had faded into silence, the Cemetery seemed rather serene. The Hero had fallen to his knees, seemingly hurt, and I hurried to knees beside him. "Sir, are you hurt?"

He had a hand on his chest, and in the pale light of the moon, I could see the red streaks of blood that escaped between his fingers. "It's only a scratch, don't you worry."

I chewed on the insides of my cheek—what was I supposed to do? The Hero was hurt, and I could not help but worry, despite my long wishes of the Hero actually dying on battle. But I had always considered myself a righteous person, and doing what was right was my one law. I moved my hand to his and gently moved it from his chest. "Let me decided if I am to worry."

He turned his head to me with a soft countenance and leaned back to reveal his chest, hissing as he moved his torso. There was a long flesh wound trailing across it, and it was bleeding rather heavily.

"Sir!" I gasped. "This is terrible! You need a Healer!"

"Hand me the pistol, Miss Ariana," he told me, and so I did. He took the pistol in his hand and took a steady aim—though his movements were limited—into the trees and fired. Once, twice, thrice. I was watching the flesh wound lessen and almost heal. It was the magic in the pistol that did it, and as much as it astonished me, it frightened me. What poor and innocent creature had to pay with its life to heal the Hero's wound? He let out a sigh of relief and lowered the pistol. "Inside my coat, in my inner pocket, there's a small, red flask. Please, take it out."

I looked at the Hero, but his face could not be read. So I reached my rather small hand inside the pocked of his coat, leaning abominably close to the Hero, as I pulled out the little flask. I looked up, and I caught him smirking for half a second before he again became unreadable. My cheeks reddened of vexation as I opened the small flask and a red mist seeped out of the opening.

"That's Healing Potion," he said. "You will need to carefully rub it on the wound. Could you do that, Miss Ariana?"

At first, I gasped, my cheeks glowing. He wanted me to do what? For the love of Avo, that was unacceptable! I was sure this had been his design all along, for that was his character! But I had to reconsider. Why would he go as far as to allow himself to be hurt, just so I could tend to him, despite his character? It seemed ridiculous. So I bitterly set my jaw tight and leaned over him, dropped three drops over the wound and slowly set my fingers over it to spread the glowing red substance over the whole streak. He hissed when my fingers landed on the warm and tender wound, but he did not move nor did he make any other sound. I was careful not to hurt him more than necessary, because no matter how much I detested the man, I could not let a person suffer in such a way, bandits aside. I felt the ripples in his chest, the sculptured muscles, and just when I thought my cheeks could impossibly be any redder, they were, and my pulse was absolutely out of control. I determinedly kept my eyes away from his face, for I did not want to see the smug in it, and once I was done, my eyes could witness how the wound closed, leaving only a deep, pink scar trailing over the chest. I leaned away and handed the Hero the flask while trying to appear as unmoved as possible, but there it was, that smug face of his.

"Thank you, Miss," said he as he tucked the flask back inside his Highwayman coat. "You have very tender hands, if you don't mind me saying it."

"What's the point in minding, when it's already said?" I was pleased by the slight confusion in his face, but lingered no longer on it as I rose and dusted the dirt off the skirt of my dress. He too rose with a groan, but the healing of the wound seemed to have bettered his mobility, but his hand frequently returned to the new scar.

"Perhaps we should turn back," he suggested. "I believe your mother must be very worried."

"Yes, I suppose." I perfectly well knew that was not the case; mother could not be more happy the longer I spent being in the Hero's company. She was quite determined to have him as her son-in-law, but unless Aaron grew up to fancy men, and unless the Hero decided to do the same, and the both of them found each other in ten years or so, the prospect of Wolfsblade being included in the family was rather small. Not even small; it was impossible.

The walk back was rather quiet. We did not converse, but I caught him glancing at me from time to time. I was flattered by his attentions, indeed I was, and the more looks he gave me, the more pleased I was with myself. Perhaps it was necessary for the man to come down from his high horses by desiring a woman he would never have? I was neither extraordinarily pretty nor desirable, and I liked to think that his infatuation only was because he saw me as a challenge. Whether or not that was the truth, I would never know.

When arriving at the house, the Hero kissed my hand most gallantly and wished me a good night before he left for Bowerstone Market. Despite my burning hatred for the man, I still could not deny the tingling feeling that spread in my hand from where his lips had so gently pressed against it. I admit I stood a bit longer looking after the Hero than I would have to, before carefully stepping inside the house, not to wake anyone. I barred the door locked and left for the stairs, when my father snuck up to stop me, his face alighted by a wax candle. He startled me, making me jump and squeal. "Father!"

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to frighten you, dear," said father softly.

"Why, sir, are you up at this hour?" I gasped.

"I couldn't sleep," father sighed. "I was worried about you, Ariana! Hollow Men? Are you out of your mind, girl?!"

I rolled my eyes. "Papa, I'm perfectly fine. You know I often go out shooting Hollow Men."

"Yes, but with the Hero?" Father was clearly not as impressed by the man as mother. "He might be a mighty man, but people like that never find trouble; trouble finds them!"

I chuckled, knowing he was very much correct in that sense. I had never seen such a mighty Hollow Man before, and I was rather certain that it was the Hero that had lured it there. "Papa, I'm all right. You don't think I'd be that easy to take down, do you?"

"I know you're good with a gun, dearest," father smiled. "I just…" He tightened his brow, a worried expression filling his face in the flickering candlelight. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to satisfy your mother. I know she would very much like you to marry that Hero. By Avo, that's all she can talk about these days! Frankly, I'm rather sick of it! Promise me, Ariana, that you don't do anything just because someone else wants you to!"

"I promise, papa," I smiled and grabbed my father's free hand. "I promise. Mother may believe whatever she'd like about me and the Hero, but you know enough of my character to know that I am not that easily tempted."

"Indeed I do, my dear," he chuckled. "He can flash his powers as much as he likes, that Hero, but I know it will take more than that to convince you!"

"Yes, father, that is right," I smiled, and my father was the content and went back to bed after we had kissed good night. I, myself, retired to bed, still feeling a slight tingle in my hand. I blamed it on the late hour, and lay down with the knowledge that I had to work the next day and that the next night, I would not neglect Scarlet Rogue as I had done tonight.


	6. Chapter V

**A/N: **Right, so, I've just finished a massive project here on FF, and it feels so good! Because now, I have time for other smaller projects, such as this one. As I've already said, I really like writing these chapters, and I hope you all like to read them as well!

Please, tell me what you think! :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter V**

I liked to keep my hands busy, whether it was holding a gun or polishing a glass. It made me feel useful and if I did not feel useful, I felt useless. And even though I had very much enjoyed having a work free day, I always enjoyed coming back. I had Mary by my side, chatting about so many things at once, I could hardly keep up. But I was content. I did not have to keep up with everything Mary said, because she hardly kept up herself. In five minutes, she could change the subjects up to ten times. I had counted. Today was no different, but the subject she had lingered on the most was, of course, the Hero.

"You know," she said, "words have it, that he is to travel to Bloodstone!"

I chuckled. "Well, lucky him."

"But _Bloodstone_?!" she squealed. "With bandits and pirates and whores and thieves?! We all know what kind of city Bloodstone is. The name has an origin, you know."

I rolled my eyes. "Mary, the man broke out of the Spire. Why should you worry about a city full of scum? He'll crush them with his left thumb."

"Well, would you look at that," Mary teased. "I think someone is coming around! I haven't heard you talk so fondly of the Hero since… well, actually, I have never heard you say such nice things about him!"

"Oh, please," I drawled. "It was hardly a compliment at all! It was merely an observation of the truth. I may admit that he is mighty, but he is just as mighty as he is mindless."

"You seemed to rather enjoy his company yesterday," said Mary. "And he seemed to enjoy yours. I am awfully jealous of you, you know. You don't even like the man." Mary pouted, and I felt slightly guilty. Indeed, I did not fancy the man, and I was taking up rather a lot of his attention. But perhaps it was more truthfully put to say that _he_ put a lot of attention on _me_. I had nothing to do with where he chose to put his attentions.

I gave the girl a smile. "I am working on making him dislike me, I promise. And then he shall be all yours."

Mary gave me a smile back. "Don't be silly; who could ever dislike you?"

"Oh, I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve," I smiled and continued cleaning the glasses.

The tavern was far from filled in the day. We had our regular customers, the known drunkards that would rather spend their day at the tavern than do something useful, and there were the golden people that lit up out days, such as Alan, the Game Master, who was always sitting by his usual table, and though some people liked to bet their money—and often lose it—he was often by his own, and Patrick, the Bard, who kept us entertained and liked to come to the bar to start a conversation. He was a gentleman, though a bit flamboyant and controversial, and could always make me smile.

"I have heard a rumour, dearest Ariana," he teased while twirling the ends of his rather long moustache.

I raised my brows and leaned over the counter. "Oh, really? Pray, what is that rumour?"

"I am not that easy, dearest," said Patrick with a smirk. "It will take some musty information from you to hear it. What did you do yesterday?"

"I was down by Bower Lake," said I, for it was the truth. "Mary and I had a lovely picnic together."

"_Only _you and Mary?" Patrick had that tone, the tone that was nonchalant and teasing yet burning with curiosity, all at the same time.

"Well, we had a small gypsy boy visiting us, and the Sheriff was very obliging," said I.

"And no one else?" asked Patrick with glittering eyes, ominous eyes.

I sighed, knowing he would not let the subject be if he did not hear it all. "Mr Wolfsblade stopped by for a chat. I think he is very fond of Mary. He simply can't take his eyes off her!"

Smirking, the Bard huffed. "Well, that'd rather odd. You see, there is this rumour that _you_ are the interest of the Hero. Tell me, Ariana, is there any truth to this?"

Stiffening, I sought for something to tell him. After a second—perhaps a second too late—I spit out laughing. "Me? Oh, that's preposterous! Why would the Hero prefer _me_ above all the other girls in town? All the prettier girls? Oh, I dare say, that those rumours are _some_ rumours, indeed! Who started them?"

"Oh, that is hard to tell," Patrick sighed. "You know how people are, my dear. One hears something and passes it to another who hears another thing and passes _that_ to another, and so it goes. Before you know it, you're the Queen of a faraway kingdom with a Balverine husband and as your left hand was bit off by a Siren, a sorceress turned your stump into a chicken's foot."

I narrowed my eyes after a brief moment of thought. "You are a very curious man, Patrick."

"Whether or not I _am_ a man has been debated," said he with a cheeky smile as he turned to find a seat.

I smiled as I shook my head. Mary was cleaning up after the drunkards, and as she came hurrying back, she glanced at me and then over at the Bard and then back.

"What did he say?" she asked. "I must know!"

"Oh, nothing in particular," I assured her.

Mary seemed disappointed. It was no secret that Patrick the Bard was the one with the best gossip in town—and oh! did Mary like gossip? She then gasped and looked at me. "Did you hear? Patrick told me last night, that Belinda's husband, fancies _men_!"

I huffed."How does Patrick know that?"

"How do you think?" A smile appeared on Mary's lips, and I rolled my eyes. Oh, it was no secret either that Patrick not only held all the town's secrets in his hands, but was also responsible for the majority of divorces in Bowerstone.

"Well, I feel sorry for poor Belinda," I said.

Before Mary had the chance to reply, the doors opened and the Hero entered. I my mind, I cursed this day; would I ever be rid of the man?

"Ladies," he smiled as he walked up to the bar.

"Mr Wolfsblade!" Mary breathed.

"Miss Mary," he replied with a polite nod. "You look very fine today."

With a shrill giggle, Mary curtsied and blushed.

"What can we offer you, Mr Wolfsblade?" I sighed, before he had a chance to comment on _my_ looks.

Wolfsblade laid his steel eyes on me, and a smirk crept across his face. "Offer me? Now, that was generous…"

I wanted to fight the blood creeping to my cheeks by the very revealing looks he gave me, and to do so, I gave him a much sarcastic smile. "Oh yes, to a generous price of thirty gold, you could have our own Bowerstone Brown Beer."

"Nothing… sweeter?" He kept his piercing gaze on me, but I was determined not to give in.

"Just on the other side of Town Square, you have Bonnie's Pie Stall," I said. "There should be plenty of sweets for you there, Mr Wolfsblade"

He huffed. "Miss Ariana, always the charmer."

"I do my best." Though I kept my smile on, I was rather worried about the looks he gave me; though I did my best to repel every attempt of flirtation from him, he almost seemed _more _interested!

"Mr Wolfsblade," Mary cut in, and I was forever grateful as the Hero changed his attention from me to her, "is it true you are set for Bloodstone?"

"Yes," he said, rather troublesomely. "I am to leave in two days."

"And how long will you be gone this time?" Mary was most clearly anxious, and while she wished for a promise of a quick return, I could not do else but wish otherwise.

He smiled charmingly. "Not ten years, I can assure you." He moved his gaze to me again. "I will be back a lot sooner than that."

"Oh, you mustn't neglect the rest of Albion to satisfy the needs of Bowerstone, sir," said I. "We managed for ten years without the aid of a Hero. A couple of years more won't do us any harm."

"Well, it sounds like you, my lady, _want_ me gone?" he smirked confidently.

"Oh, I never said such a thing," I said as I shrugged my shoulders and turned to stock the cleaned glasses in the cupboards. "I merely pointed out the importance of not causing jealousy amongst the cities, for I believe they _all _would appreciate your help and generosity."

"But Bowerstone is my favourite city," the Hero shrugged. "It's my home. And, I'm fairly sure it is inhabited by the prettiest ladies in all of Albion."

"I beg to differ," said I as I turned, "for I have heard great things about the beauties of the north. Oakfield is said to carry the grace of Avo, and where to find the prettiest ladies if not in Avo's grace?"

He chuckled. "You speak very condescendingly about your own city, I must say! Oakfield? Having more beauties than Bowerstone? Upon my honour, I never saw such pretty girls in my entire life! And as far as I know, two of the prettiest stand before me as we speak."

Mary burst out giggling. "Oh, sir, you charmer!"

I, however, did not let his charms fool me. "Sir, it's a bit early in the day for me to accept such addresses."

"I could always come back tonight at give them to you then," he smiled, but then his smile turned to a frown. "But of course, Miss Ariana, you're very much engaged otherwise tonight."

It took me a moment to remember my small lie, and when I did, I nodded. "Yes, indeed I am."

"May I ask what or who will be occupying your time, Miss Ariana?" asked Wolfsblade, and his piercing eyes almost sliced through my lie.

"I'm…" I had to think of something, something he would not question. "I'm meeting someone."

The man seemed surprised, but he knew better than to make it obvious. "Well, is it a man or is it a woman?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Mr Wolfsblade, but it's a man." There. Now he could go and never come back. If he was now led to believe that I was already taken, he might give up his addresses to me forever and direct them to someone who was receptive of them.

His eyes slightly darkened, but he seemed rather composed. Perhaps the man was a sour loser. "I see. Well, he is a lucky man, indeed."

"And I am a lucky woman," I replied.

He nodded. "Well, I should be off. There are ruffians to straighten out, Hobbes to kill! You ladies have a good day." With one last nod, he left the tavern, and I could finally breathe.

But Mary could not. "You're meeting a _man_?!" she hissed. "Why haven't you _told_ me?!" She gasped. "Is it John? William? Thomas?!"

Shushing her, I glared angrily at her. "No! I am not meeting with _anyone_!" I sighed as I looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "I said it to be rid of the Hero."

Mary seemed heartbroken. "But… when did he ask _you_?"

"Yesterday," I sighed, "when we were walking back. He asked me if I was engaged this evening, and I… said yes. I didn't want him to believe there could ever be anything between us. I'm not like that." I did not tell her, though, of his little visit last night.

Mary frowned. "But I don't understand! Why is he so interested in _you_, when you're clearly not giving him anything in return but snide comments?!"

I rolled my eyes at the girl. "He's not interested in me in a genuine way, but rather interested because he sees me as a challenge! He could have any woman he wants! He could have her just by looking at her, and he gets bored after a while. And then, he meets a young woman whose heart isn't easily touched. Aha! Now, there's a challenge, a mountain he hasn't beat yet, a dark forest with unknown dangers. He is here to see and to conquer, not to give heartfelt addresses, settle down and marry!"

"Well, why don't you put an end to it, then?" Mary asked. "Why don't you simply tell him you don't want him, and let us other girls have a chance!"

I laughed. "You think he would believe me if I told him he was not to my liking? Oh please, he has an ego enough to fill all of Albion. He doesn't believe there could be a woman that wouldn't want to bed him. And if there was such a woman, he would see it as a mission to change her mind. Either way, he is blinded by power, the power the citizens of Albion has given him!"

Mary shrugged. "Then bed him. If it is as you say it is, once you've bedded him, he will no longer seek your attention. He has conquered you, and will move on."

I gasped loudly, in horrid shock. "Are you out of your wits, girl?! Do you think I would ever succumb to the Hero and become a _strumpet_?! Indeed no, that is against my firm beliefs, my better judgment and even against my character!"

"Then tell him the truth!" Mary persisted.

Rolling my eyes, I felt the anger rise within me. "What do you want me to tell him, then? Do you want me to tell him how much I dislike him, and for how long I've hated the man? When he's done nothing to me? Can't you see how impossible it would be for him to believe it?!"

"Then why _do_ you hate him?" Mary was being difficult. Why, in Avo's name, did she have to ask me those questions? "If he has done nothing to _you_, surely there could be no point in hating the man, could it?"

"Perhaps he hasn't done _me_ any wrong, but that is just a matter of time! And what about those poor women he _has_?" I stood too firm in my convictions of hating the man to in any way quiver. "Who will ever take their side again if I give in to the man's power?"

"You are not a Hero, Ariana," Mary muttered. "Neither will you ever be one. You're a commoner, a woman, and you should learn your place. What man would ever want a woman that doesn't act like a woman?"

I wanted to scold the girl for being such a simpleton, and for being so abominably rude, but I had no chance as she turned her back on me and stormed into the back room. Just as well, I thought, as I, infuriated, took a piece of cloth and went about sweeping the tables. Patrick had noticed our row and wanted to know what happened, what passed between us two girls, but I refused to tell him.

For once in my life, working was more tedious than listening to my mother going on about laces and petticoats. Mary and I kept as far away from one another as possible during the whole of the day, and when out work shift was over, I believe both of us hurried away so quickly, none of us really said good bye to Alan and Patrick. We both lived in Old Town, Mary and I, but thankfully, in different parts. While she lived at Lookout Way, I lived on Cemetery Road, and we did not have to see much of each other. Which was a good thing, because I feared I might scold her if I ran into her. However, I knew I had to go back to work the next day, and Mary would be there, too. I did not like quarrels, and Mary was my best friend, but she was also the most stubborn girl I had ever met. She was even more stubborn than me at times. Only time would tell how long she would be mad at me, and how long I would be mad at her.

I must have been rather angry when I came home, for both mother and father kept away and said little to none to me, and Aaron was bold enough to ask me if it was "that time of the month". Not that I even understood how such young a boy could now anything about those sorts of things. When I asked him, he said that he had heard it from Miles.

"Miles says," he said, "that his sister _bleeds_ once every month! He says all the girls do! He says that they could bleed to death, but that there is this small fairy that only girls can see that stops the bleeding. Miles says that's why girls are weaker than boys, because they lose so much blood! He also says that the bleeding is Avo's way of preventing the girls from taking over the world, because right before, they are turning into monsters with red, glowing eyes, long, sharp claws and teeth like razors! Please, tell me you won't turn into such a monster, Ariana!"

I raised a brow. "So, Miles says that, does he? Well, you shouldn't listen so much to Miles. I think he has a very vivid imagination."

"I do, too," Aaron shrugged. "He says that girls can only do two things; cook food and have babies. But I think that's rubbish, because you are a girl, and you can do almost everything! You can even shoot like a Hero."

Smiling, I patted my brother on his head. "Not quite. But with a bit of practice, I may become just as good one day."

"I think you're already that good." As my baby brother smiled at me, I felt a warmth spread through me, and just like that, the worries and angers of the day were gone and forgotten.


	7. Chapter VI

**A/N: **And now, we finally have chapter six. I must say, that I enjoy writing these chapters a bit shorter than I usually do! It feels lighter and it feels refreshing to do something different! Oh well, enough ranting!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter VI**

Dinner was eaten, the dishes were done and the hour had struck by which the whole family usually went to bed. I had kissed my mother and father good night and read a bedtime story for Aaron—even though he persisted on that he was getting too big for that—and after closing myself in my chambers, I laid out Scarlet's attire on the bed and put it on. I carefully laid my hair and painted my face before I put the mask on and pulled out my weapons. When I was finished and ready, it was late enough for mother and father to have fallen asleep, and Aaron had been sleeping for quite some time. I climbed out my window and jumped into the shadows. A dog was barking somewhere in the distance, and an owl was hooting, but other than that, the night was dead silent. Staying in the shadows and eventually climbing up our neighbours' house across the street, I stayed to the rooftops, skipping between them as I headed into the city. I still did not believe criminals in the city would dare out on the streets with the Hero in town, but I had had a nightly routine for ten years, and I would not let something like the Hero's presence ruin it.

I had worked many years on my balance and agility to be able to skip from rooftop to rooftop while keeping my feet as light as possible, and after ten years of practice, I liked to believe that I was rather good at it. I had taken my place at the rooftop of the smithy as I always did to look out over Town Square. I could see a great distance from that roof, and it was my usual place for spotting. I had heard, during the day, how some citizens claimed that some nights, when the moon was set right, if one was lucky, one could see the silhouette of Scarlet Rogue on the smithy's rooftop, with her coat twirling in the wind. Sometimes, people even gathered on Tows Square to see me—or _her_—and when they did not, their spirit was not broken. On the contrary, it added to the mystery of the elusive heroine.

Tonight though, there were no spectators. I guessed they were all siding with the Hero in the tavern, drinking themselves senseless only to end up fighting each other before stumbling back home. I did not mind though, for I could well do without the spectators. Admittedly, my confidence did get higher whenever a citizen spotted me and called for me very admiringly, but it was something I neither sought nor wished for every night. I was indeed quite content with being invisible.

Sitting on the rooftop of the smithy, I often did some thinking. A dangerous business for a woman, some would say, but I never cared for such insolent remarks. And on my mind that night was—even though I wished it not to be—the Hero. There was something I could not let go of, something in his eyes when I told him that I was meeting with another man. It was blackened jealousy, something I only saw when men brawled over Scarlet Rogue. But never over Ariana. Ariana was not the interest of any man in Bowerstone… perhaps she would be in cities like Westcliff, but not Bowerstone. Ariana was too headstrong and too much of a man. Ariana, the Tailor's daughter, was far too independent to be the ideal wife. A wife ought to be silent and obliging. She ought to be there, ready to pull up her skirts and spread her legs to her husband whenever he feels the need for it, or turn her backside to him if he fancies it. She ought to give birth to strong and healthy children and take care of the household and have food on the table when the husband comes back home after a hard day's work. That was the Bowerstone model for the perfect woman. I had never fitted into that model, no matter how much my mother had tried to shape me into it. I was the girl who played with swords and had the drunkards thrown out when they turned too noisy. I was not the pretty girl sitting silent in a corner, waiting for a bed invite. Many times had I heard how it talked of me fancying other women, as if there would be no man that would be man enough for me, so I might as well turn to women and seek the opposite.

As much as I tried to laugh at it, because laughing at it would prove it harmless, I was hurt each and every time they claimed such things about me. I did not mind people that were drawn to the same sex, but I was not, and having people claiming that made it most difficult for me to actually find a suitable man. I wished for a family in my future, I wished for a kind, loving husband and strong, healthy children. But I would never succumb to the ideals of the Bowerstone woman, thus being cursed by rumours and the needs of living up to some of them.

So why did I see jealousy in the Hero's eyes? What was it that made him chose me amongst all of the other, _willing_ women? If it was as my theory suggested, and it was just another way of displaying power, surely he would not be as jealous as he was, because he would be certain that he could have me either way. Perhaps the Hero really _had_ changed since last? Perhaps ten years in the Spire taught him to appreciate what he had, and humbled him? Perhaps, only perhaps, I truly _was _the only one tempting him in that way? Surely, he had not given that kind of attention to other girls?

I could not stop the blood from rushing to my cheeks, nor prevent the childish smile that spread across my lips as I thought of the Hero, of Wolfsblade. He was very handsome, indeed; tall and strong with a deep voice and piercing eyes… I could very well understand why he caused such turbulence amongst females whenever he was near. However, I had to remind myself of all the bad things he had done and not let myself be swept off my feet. I had to remain strong, for who else would? Scarlet Rogue was a symbol for all the young women of Bowerstone, a symbol of something greater than the man's slave. Scarlet Rogue had men kneeling before her, and Scarlet Rogue had men licking her boots. Should Scarlet Rogue fall under the spell of the Hero, she would forever lose that stature of dignity and strength. I could not let that happen. But I also had to start daring to be more rebellious myself. My behaviour was, indeed, rebellious enough, but I did not pass it on to any other young girl, which was something I needed to do.

Either that, or simply stepping out of the shadows and let Scarlet Rogue meet the people for real.

Not long had I been thinking, before shrill voices could be heard from Bower Stones, just up on Side Street. Without hesitation, I skipped between the rooftops before heading down onto the streets, but still keeping to the shadows, before once again climbing a building and keeping to the roofs.

It was a man and a woman having a row, and the couple had even received a smaller audience. Whatever the row was about seemed irrelevant, as the man suddenly swung his hand to cruelly strike the woman down, causing the audience to gasp, all to stunned to do anything. Unsheathing my sword, I leaped down from the roof and landed in front of the man. The crowd gasped once more, and I could hear them start whispering my name in awe. The man seemed just as surprised.

"S-Scarlet Rogue," the man stuttered.

"Do you enjoy hurting women, mister?" asked I.

"I-I'm terribly sorry, Madam Rogue, it wasn't—I would never—it wasn't hard, and—"

I raised a hand, demanding silence, before I helped the poor woman to her feet. The side of her face had already started to swell. I glared at the man. "It is not I who should receive that apology, mister."

"Thank you, dearest Scarlet!" cried the woman. "Please, don't let that man into my house! Please, make him leave! I beg you!"

Nodding to the injured woman, I turned back to the man. He was taller than I, but as I straightened, the man shrunk, too frightened to do otherwise. "I believe you heard the woman? Leave now and do not return. If you do, I shall personally escort you to Westcliff and throw you into the Crucible. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Madam!" cried the man as he fell to his knees. "O, you kind and merciful Hero!"

I looked on the man with disdain as I frowned. "Oh, get on your feet, you pathetic creature! Be gone with you, and do not come back! Be gone, I say, before I strike you down!"

The man hurried to his feet as he rushed away while bowing, and when he was out of sight, I received the crowd's love and admiration.

"Oh, Scarlet Rogue, please allow me to say how much I admire you!"

"Scarlet, Scarlet, o fairest Scarlet, let me kiss your hand!"

"Madam Rogue, please marry me!"

"Why should she marry _you_?"

"And you suppose _you're_ better?!"

While the crowd had their discussion, I retired to the shadows, satisfied after another good deed. I walked the backstreets all the way to Old Town, where I unfortunately ran into a rather notorious group of troublesome youngsters, four boys at the age of fifteen. Though they were three years my junior, they were all larger than I, and the largest of them, a boy named Brick, a large and rather solid looking boy, stood in my way. "Oi, fellas, look wha' we've got 'ere!" His speech was most blurry and improper, dropping consonants and shortening words, but I was not surprised since none of these boys ever cared much for school. "It's Scarlet Rogue, eh! Well, come on then, luv. Come on then an' show us wha' you got! Show us your goods!" The others hooted in concurrence.

Crossing my arms and raising a brow, I sighed deeply. I had neither time nor much spirit to deal with rascals like these. "Shouldn't you boys be in bed by now?"

"Why, you wanna join me? Wanna grind up to me, eh?" asked Brick, grinning a rather nasty grin, and I most vexedly tightened my jaw. "Come on then, luv, let's 'ave a go, eh!"

Thrusting his groin vulgarly towards me, I did not hesitate before I pulled my pistol. I did not intend on shooting the boy, but he was unknowing to that, and stepped away. "See what happens when boys try to act like men who disgrace women? It all turns into a big mess, I dare say. A big mess, indeed. You think you as males have all the power over women, and thus are authorised to do as you please with them. But know this; while the man displays his power in the brightest of lights where everyone can see, the woman keeps to the shadows. She is cunning, and she is dangerous, like the lioness on the savannas of Samarkand, or like the Sand Fury in the deserts of Aurora. She will strike, with vengeance in sight and fury at heart, and she will strike, like the Witches of Witchwood, like the ancient Valkyries of the Northern Wastes. You should respect women, for they bring you into this world, and they can take it away just as well."

The four boys were shaking after my speech, and hurried away, and I could most satisfied put my pistol back to the holster and continue on my way. However, a much, much larger frame appeared from the shadows, and Wolfsblade's smirk was most vexing.

"Amiable speech," said he while nonchalantly inspecting his own fingernails. "You must feel so proud of your achievements, making little boys tremble. I wonder," said he as he took a step further, "whether you would be able to make a man tremble just as much?"

I suddenly felt insecure, but did not show it. Instead, I straightened my spine and raised my chin. "Indeed I can. There is no doubt in my mind, Mr Wolfsblade, that men fear strong women. Why? Because they feel emasculated whenever a woman takes control."

The Hero huffed, seemingly much amused by me. "Did I not tell you I didn't want to see you here again?"

"Oh, but _that _was in Rookridge," said I. "_This _is Bowerstone Old Town. I'm afraid you will have to be a bit more precise, Hero."

While he did seem to enjoy my speech, he certainly did not enjoy my wit and set his piercing eyes on a glare towards me. "You make a sport out of annoying people, don't you?"

"As I said," I sneered, "men fear strong women. It is not my words that annoy you; it is my attitude."

"It is," he agreed. "But don't insult me by claiming it is because of fear. Fear, my sweet, is something you have yet to experience." He took another threatening step closer, and forced me to take a step back. "You annoy me because of your ignorance, because of your _lack _of fear." While I wished to stay calm and composed, it was being rather difficult with the Hero walking closer with every word. "You're not a Hero, you're not a warrior. You're just a girl in a mask, pretending to be the bringer of justice. What you bring, though, is not that."

"No," I agreed. "I bring much more. What I bring for _you_, is jealousy. You simply cannot accept the fact that there is someone in this city as admired as you."

I was not ready for his fury, as a crushing grip tightened around my throat, and the impact of the wall hitting my back knocked the air out of my lungs. "I will use your own tactics now, my sweetest Rogue;" His face was dangerously close, but the fury in his eyes and the snarl on his lips were what frightened me the most, "if you ever come back to Bowerstone, or if I see you, _anywhere_, I will kill you. I will rip that pretty little head of yours off of your slender shoulders with my bare hands, and I will mount it in my house, and I will pleasure myself before it."

Too shocked by this violent turn of events, I could not fully comprehend what he was saying. The grip around my throat was not tight enough to choke me, but tight enough to hurt. I could still scream, if I wished it, but what good would it do? Who would come to my rescue, when my attacker was the Hero of Bowerstone, the Crucible Champion, the one and only Wolfsblade?

He released me, but did not let me forget as he lingered his eyes on mine for a long second, and I feared I would see some recognition flicker in the steel, and I would be discovered, but there was no such thing. Instead, he disappeared back into the shadows and while I had succeeded on remaining calm throughout the assault, I could no longer do so, and started to tremble violently to the point where I had to sit down. I was shocked and I was astonished, and I could not quite grasp what had happened. When the trembling had ceased, I continued back home and climbed through the window and changed into my night gown. It was not until I lay safely underneath my bed sheets I finally understood what had happened, and I burst into tears. The vicious threat that the Hero had directed towards me echoed in my head, the words drenched with fury and hatred, and for the first time, I saw the cruelty and the foulness of them. Perhaps it was only an empty threat, designed especially for disobedient women? If I were to provoke him as myself, as Ariana, would he then threaten me like he had Scarlet Rogue? Or was Scarlet Rogue the only woman capable of bringing forth such hideous sides of him? Or perhaps,_ I_ was?

I had to hide my face in my pillow for the cries to be silenced, and it took several hours before I could finally fall asleep. The next morning, I barely made it out of bed. Mother had to come in and enquired after my health. I was not ill, I told her, but simply rather tired. I had trouble sleeping, and was suffering from the consequences. My mother was, as always, very worried.

"Are you sure you should not call in sick today?" she asked. "I am sure Stephen can spare you for a day!"

"No, mama," said I and smiled lightly. "I'm quite alright. Bye now, I'll see you later this afternoon." Upon leaving the house, I was faced by Mary's worried frown on our front yard.

She seemed nervous. "Good morning, Ariana."

"Good morning, Mary," said I. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, it's… quite alright," Mary said and looked down on her hands. "I just wanted to tell you how terribly sorry I am for what I said yesterday. I realise now how silly I was."

I sighed and smiled. "Mary dearest, don't you worry. You know me; I can take a thing or two."

"Yes, but I was entirely out of line to say such awful things to you!" She was rather worried I would not forgive her, and there were even tears in her eyes. "I am so very sorry, Ariana. Please, don't be angry with me!"

"Oh, Mary," I smiled. "Now you're being silly. Why would I be angry? Now, come on. Let's go to work. I am sure poor Stephen must be suffering in our absence."

Together we walked towards the Market, in just as friendly spirit as ever.


	8. Chapter VII

**A/N: **And here's chapter seven! I hope you will all enjoy it! :) Please, tell me what you think!

Enjoy!

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**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter VII**

It was rather silent throughout the whole day in the tavern. No drunkards and no gamblers. It was only the four of us, Mary, Alan, Patrick and I, that were inside. It was a lovely day, and that might perhaps be the reason to the very empty tavern.

The day went by rather dully, and I had scarcely sold more than five pints. Well outside, it was lovely, indeed. The sun was warm but not hot and breezes from the channel were generous. Instead of going home, I took a stroll down to the docks, to feel the temperature of the water. I said hello to Gordon, the submarine captain, before sitting down on the edge of the wharf +-and pulling off my mid-calf booties. I pulled my skirt to my knees and carefully lowered my feet into the water. It was warm and absolutely blissful for feet that had been working for many hours.

I sat for a longer while, humming to myself while my feet remained in the water. It was very calming and very satisfying to just be alone by the water in the warm summer's sun. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I pretended that I was in Oakfield, sitting on the beach and just feeling the salty sea breezes against my skin. But when I opened them again, I was still in dirty Bowerstone, and I heard a soft chuckle next to me, and I was startled to find the Hero looking down upon me, with his furry companion standing next to him, wiggling his tail. With a gasp, I pulled my feet out of the water and threw myself backwards, splinters from the coarse wooden wharf filling my right palm.

"I'm sorry, Miss Ariana, I did not mean to frighten you," said he as he leaned forwards to aid me, but I did not accept his extended hand. He then sighed and took a seat on the edge himself as he started to pull his own boots off. "I suppose it's just—oh dear, _that _is what I call agreeable temperature!" Letting his feet drop into the water just as I had done, a much calm countenance spread across his face.

I thought about simply taking my booties and go, but I remembered that it was not _me_ he had threatened so violently last night, but _Scarlet Rouge_, and therefore, _Ariana _had no reason to be angry with the Hero. Composing myself for what would most certainly become a very strange conversation, I sat back up and dropped my feet into the water next to him. My palm was thudding and stinging and I cradled it with my other hand.

"Are you hurt?" Wolfsblade suddenly asked as he pulled his brows together.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," I assured him and hurried to hide my injured hand. It was bleeding, splinters deeply buries into the flesh.

"My lady, your face is completely drained!" he huffed. "Let me have a look at your hand." He reached his hand out, but I refused.

"I'm quite alright, sir!" I assured him again. "It's just a scratch, you need not to worry."

He smiled. "Let me decide if I am to worry."

It sounded awfully familiar, when I realised that _I _had said that same thing to _him_ when that massive Hollow Man had hurt him. Of course, this was only an injury from splinters, not a deep flesh wound caused by a blade. "I'm alright, I promise."

"Well, I don't believe you, you're in pain," he said sternly and patiently waited for me to yield. "Give me your hand, and I will make the pain stop."

Sighing deeply, I finally placed my injured hand in his; mine was rather small compared to his, and I felt my cheeks burn as he carefully examined it.

"This looks awful," he mumbled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of those small flasks of Healing Potion. After opening it, he poured three drops into my hand, and the feeling of the magical remedy hitting my sore flesh was soothing and much special. Slowly, he rubbed the remedy into my palm with his thumbs, almost in a caressing motion, and my cheeks burned hotter. Those were not the same hands that had been closed around my throat the night before. And yet, they certainly were. He continued to caress my palm after the remedy had healed it, and just as if he suddenly realised what he was doing, he gave my hand back to me. I dared not look him in the face, fearing my blushed cheeks might satisfy him. "I met your mother today," he said, "in the Market."

"Oh." I tried to sound interested and intrigued, but I was not. I wanted to be rather away from the man, and not sit next to him where few people would see.

"Charming woman, your mother," he continued. "However, I was rather chocked, for I learned to know that you had been at home the whole evening yesterday. What happened?"

Suddenly, I was speechless. Had he spoken to my mother about me? Had he asked her whom I was meeting last night? Of course my mother would not lie to the Hero, she admired the man too much. I desperately tried to think of something to say, but I was too shocked.

The Hero tightened his jaw. He did not look very happy. "Either your friend failed you, or… you simply didn't want my company. Which is it?"

My heart was most vigorously beating inside my chest, and I breathed rather rapidly as I dared to look the man in the eye. The steel eyes were hard but not hateful. Finally, I sighed. "I'm sorry, sir. I… didn't know how to—" Cutting myself short, I decided I would not give him petty excuses. Instead, I took a deep breath and straightened my back. "I am not that sort of girl, Mr Wolfsblade. There are plenty of other girls to choose from if you wish that kind of company."

"You give your opinions rather strongly, Miss Ariana," said he as he knitted his brows. He was neither angry nor upset, but rather amused. "But you also take things for granted. I never saw you as that sort of girl. There is nothing you have said or done that has made me think of you as one. That's what I admire about you."

"Why?" I was desperate to know. "Why, when I have been as indifferent as can be?!"

He chuckled. "Forgive me if I sound arrogant, but I like a bit of a challenge."

Even though I had always known it was like that, my heart still dropped as I learnt to know the truth. I was not so very special after all. I was just… difficult, and it was the difficulty that allured him. Taking a deep breath, I pulled my feet out of the water and rose. "I am not a challenge, Mr Wolfsblade, I'm just not interested. Please stop your flirtations and attempts of snaring me, it is only a waste of time." I curtsied before I turned my back on him to walk away, but he called for me and demanded me to stop, though I did not listen. I heard his splash with his feet in the water, and a short moment later, he had grabbed my arm to swing me around. The grip was neither hard nor vicious, and his countenance was more confused than angry.

"Miss Ariana, have I offended you?" he asked. "If I have, I am deeply sorry."

"Well," I started, "by supposing I would be indifferent only as a facade, you have. I am not tempted by you, nor will I become. If I have led you to believe that, sir, I am sorry."

He did not reply, nor did he release me, and his eyes wandered off somewhere in the distance, a frown covering his face. He then shook his head, most troublesomely. "I apologise, Miss Ariana. I suppose _I_ was the one to take things for granted, indeed. If you wish me to, I shan't pursuit you any longer."

Surprised indeed by his sensible apology, it took me a moment to compose myself enough to answer. "Thank you, sir."

I was expecting him to release me now, and yet he did not. "So, you don't find me at all agreeable?"

"It's not so much about you being agreeable or not, but more about what I prefer," said I.

"What do you prefer then?" asked Wolfsblade, much anxious to know.

Giving him a smile, I sighed. "Men who understand women like me."

"Well, on _that_ you can hardly rule me out now, can you?" he huffed. "I believe I understand your character perfectly."

"That is a daring statement, indeed, sir," said I. "Especially since you've obviously mistaken my interests so gravely." And, I also thought, especially since he much viciously threatened me last night, and even though he might not have known it was me he threatened, he still behaved disgustingly towards a woman.

"I am only a man, my lady," said he.

"Yes," I concurred. "You are. Perhaps, I need something more."

Half a smirk spread across his lips. "Seems like you need a Hero."

"You claimed to be just a man, remember?" said I. "Not a Hero."

He narrowed his eyes. "You twist my words, Miss Ariana."

"No, sir," said I. "I believe you twist them yourself. Now, please, let me go. I have to go home."

"Let me walk you, at least," he said.

"No, sir, I believe it is best if we say our goodbyes here." His grip around my arm lingered for another moment before he finally let go, and I curtsied before I hurried away. There was a lump in my throat and I wished it to be gone, but it would not disappear. Well at home, mother asked me why I was so late, and there was a vexing hopefulness in her voice, as if she _wished_ I had run into the Hero. I wanted to yell at her, tell her to stay out of my business, but I could not. There was probably no point in starting an argument with her as well. I simply told her I went down to the channel to bathe my feet and told her it was nothing special. I even pointed out the value in being alone for a while, and she was much disappointed, even though she did not tell me that herself. I could imagine her hopes of me marrying the Hero rising to the skies when he asked her about my evening, and I could see her satisfied face when she told him that I had been home all night. If I knew my mother correctly, she would have most certainly mentioned something about me being unmarried and not at all involved with anyone.

It was evident, throughout the rest of the evening, that mother was much disappointed with me for not running into the Hero. I, however, was very disappointed I had. I did not regret telling him the truth, but I did regret the sadness of my confessions. But thrice had he proven to me to be a disdainful man without any respect for the opposite sex, and I would rather die than attach myself to such a man. And to make it all worse was the unconditional love he received from all the other females in town, from all the women compelled to believe that their weaker state is how it was all supposed to be, that their inferiority is something the female sex is born as, not brought up into. _They _would most certainly call me mad for refusing such a man. I did not care for such things. The reason I regretted the sadness of my confessions, is that I did not wish him to think ill of me. I did not care for his thoughts of Scarlet Rouge, for she certainly did not care for his good opinion, but I did care for how he saw me, Ariana. To have the Hero talk ill of me would be devastating for my already poor reputation, and eventually, that would most certainly force me to either go into hiding or move away forever. A person disliked by the Hero of Bowerstone, was a person disliked by Bowerstone itself. Perhaps, if I met him again, I could apologise for my harsh deliverance and beg him to not think ill of me.

Dinner that evening was silent and awkward. Mother did not say much, which was very unusual. Father wondered if there were anything wrong, but mama said it was not. Even Aaron had noticed the tension around the table and worried he might have done something naughty. He was so worried that he, by bedtime, asked me if mother was mad at him.

"No," I assured her. "Mama is not mad at you. If anyone, she's mad at _me_."

"Why?" asked the boy.

"Because I don't do as she pleases," said I with a smile.

"But you never do as she pleases," Aaron said.

I chuckled. "No, I don't. And sometimes, mother remembers that as is angry about it."

"I hope she isn't angry tomorrow," Aaron sighed as he turned in his bed to sleep.

I caressed the boy's hair before I said goodnight and headed into my own chambers. In all honesty, I did hesitate on putting on my attire and sneak out into the dark this night. I was admittedly afraid that Wolfsblade's threat was not an empty threat, and might actually be a real one. The Hero was known for being ruthless and cruel when it came to his enemies. Had he not gutted that bandit who spit on him in Brightwood? Did he not shoot Hollow Men just for the enjoyment of it? Had he not torn the head off that Balverine in the Crucible, earning his name? He was indeed a fierce warrior and dangerous in every sense. Perhaps I had been too hasty provoking him as Scarlet, thinking I would be safe just because I was a woman? Indeed, I hesitated for a rather long time before finally putting the clothes on and sneaking off into the night. I kept to the shadows the whole night, careful not to meet him in any way, and to my relief, I did not. It was a very calm night, and I could return home and go to sleep much satisfied.

The next morning, mother was still in a bad mood. I could no longer detain the confrontation and after breakfast, I asked her blankly what the matter was.

She sighed heavily. "You are my only daughter, Ariana," she said, and I concurred. Indeed I was. "And as such, I, as you mother, want the best for you! Do not roll your eyes at me, young lady! The Hero has shown clear signs of interest for you, and yet you have ignored them and even dismissed them! Dearest, he's a _Hero_! You can't do much better than that! What are you waiting for? Think about the fine home he will give you! Think about the protection you will have as his wife! And if you do not like the man, you don't have to worry, for he will not be home much."

Huffing, I crossed my arms. "Mama, if your idea of your daughter's happiness is the size of her house and the value of her luxurious furniture, you are gravely mistaken! You know I could never marry a man that doesn't respect me as a woman and as a person! And even _if_ I fancied the Hero, do you really think I would want a husband that is never at home? Do you really believe I would wish to sit at home every night, wondering whether or not my husband would come home in one piece, or if he would come home at all? No, madam, that is indeed not my ideal picture of the perfect marriage."

"But you could marry him to secure your own future!" mother persisted.

"Mine, or yours?" I snapped.

"Ariana!" mother gasped. "What do you take me for? I only want what's best for _you_! If you would just listen to me! By marrying the Hero, you will be given the freedom to do what you want, go wherever you'd like! Is that not what you've always dreamt of? Seeing the world?"

I laughed. "You think the Hero would allow his wife to do else than to stay put by the stove? Do you really believe he would accept me being away and not being there to satisfy him? He's a man, mama. A man with ridiculously high confidence. His wife will be his slave, and to the woman whom chooses that fate, I congratulate her for being the silliest girl in all of Albion. Besides, how can you be so sure the Hero wants to _marry _me, when he might just want to bed me?"

"Now you're being childish," mother spat. "The man is perfectly amiable. He has been most obliging. I met him yesterday, you know, and he was so friendly and so agreeable, I dare say he must be one of my favourite men! He was very sensible and inquired after my health and my husbands. He asked about Aaron, and then, he asked a great deal of questions about you, Ariana. He then _congratulated _me for the unavoidable upcoming _marriage_ between you and this mysterious man you haven't told us about. Ariana, do not look at me like that, I _know_ you lied to him! You are not involved with anyone, and I cannot believe you told him you were! Such insolence! Such imprudence!"

"Yes!" I finally snapped. "I am a very imprudent girl, indeed, for lying to the Hero! I am imprudent for not being like every other girl in this bloody city! I am a disgrace, aren't I, for _playing _with guns and swords? Perhaps I would do better in Westcliff? Perhaps you should send me there? Or, why not send me to _Bloodstone_, while you're at it? Seriously, mother, there is nothing you could _ever_ say that would persuade me to marry the Hero, so let it be! Let my business be my business!" I turned on my heel to head out the door.

"But don't you care about your reputation?" mother called behind me. "Are you not worried that such a lie might cause others to see you as a strumpet?!"

I came to a sudden halt and swung around to face my mother. My anger was almost uncontrollable, and my fists were tightened. "A strumpet?! And what do you call all of the girls that follow the Hero into his bed, just as you want _me _to do? Are they _not _strumpets? Just because he's a Hero? You really should reconsider your poor choice of words, mama, before you make a fool out of yourself." And with that, I left the house. I immediately regretted scolding her like that. No matter how ill I felt about my mother's way of thinking, I still knew she was only trying to do good. However, I was certain that if she knew about how the Hero had almost choked her only daughter, threatening her as cruelly as he had, she would not look at him at positively as she did now.


	9. Chapter VIII

**A/N: **Finally, the next chapter is ready! Thank you all so much for the reads, reviews, favs and alerts! :D It is all very appreciated!

Now please,

enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter VIII **

I was furious the whole morning. Mary wondered why, and she was even a bit worried. I told her not to be, and that I would be perfectly fine later on. Out of respect for me, Mary said almost nothing of the Hero, even though it was the day of his departure, and for that, I was grateful. The Hero did not even come into the tavern that day, but people said it was because he was meeting with this hooded lady out by Bower Lake. Mary did mention his departure once or twice, but all in all, I was very impressed by her, and by lunchtime, I was indeed feeling a lot better. Patrick sang for us, a song he had just recently written, about lovers that were unfaithful to each other, a very common topic for Patrick. Alan talked of everything and nothing with the wisdom and insight only Alan could have, and when the workday was almost over, the four of us were so busy having a conversation about the Old Kingdom, we hardly noticed that our day was over.

"Oh, dear Avo!" Mary exclaimed. "I promised to meet John at dinnertime!"

"Oh, John, you say?" I teased.

"He's a perfectly amiable man!" Mary said. "And, he's terrific at shooting ducks out by the Lake."

I chuckled. "I know you are much fond of duck stew."

"Do not mock me, Ariana," she muttered. "He is charming and handsome."

"Yes," I smiled. "He is, I grant you, very agreeable, indeed."

"Well, I'd better go!" she said as she stood up and said her goodbyes.

I was next to leave, and I noticed how people were moving towards the bridge. The Hero had come back from the Lake. Wondering for a moment if I should, perhaps, go and see him, I decided to head back towards Old Town and let our last conversation be our last conversation, even though it did not end as well as I wished it to. However, I did not go back home. Instead, I went to the Cemetery. At daytime, when the dead stayed dead, it was a very serene place, and I enjoyed going there to think. And at this moment, I could not think about anything else than the Hero. I still remembered both his hand clamping viciously around my throat, and his hands so carefully rubbing the remedy into my palms. It was neither the same hands nor the same man, and yet, it was. It always was and would always be. I was a bit disappointed at the fact that I was living two lives, that he did not understand what wrong he had done me, more than thinking of me as a potential bed warmer. I wanted to tell him how ardently I despised the man and always had, but there was a conflicting thought in my mind. Indeed, he had not been acting cruelly towards me at all, as Ariana. He had been rather civil and charming, to be honest. Had he not treated me so poorly as Scarlet Rogue, I would certainly be well on my way of changing my opinion of the man, and might even be charmed by him, but as it was, such feelings were most impossible.

But as I could have foreseen, for it had certainly started to become a habit, my thoughts were interrupted by the man himself. The moment I saw him walk towards me, with Shadow loyally at his side, I hurried to rise and walk away before he spotted me, but it was too late.

"Miss Ariana," he called after me, and Shadow barked.

I stopped and turned to face him, though I made sure to show my dissatisfaction. "Mr Wolfsblade. I thought you'd be on your way?"

"Yes," he agreed. "I was." He tightened his brows. "Forgive me, Miss Ariana, but I wanted to say goodbye to you."

"I thought we said our goodbyes," said I. "Surely there could be nothing else said between us?"

"Miss Ariana," he smiled, "I don't wish to part on bad terms. I have yet to say _my _goodbyes. Please, let's sit."

Feeling suddenly nervous, I wanted nothing but to walk away, to go home to my safe house and never to speak to the man again, but I could not, and obligingly followed him to sit on the bench I had just risen from.

"I know I promised I would not pursuit you any longer, but don't be alarmed madam, I am here strictly on friendly terms."

I did not reply, for I had nothing to say. The faster this would be over, the better.

"I thought about what you said to me yesterday," he continued, "about my statement of knowing your character. You were right, it was indeed very bold. I admit I thought I had your character figured out perfectly, but you led me to reconsider. I know not more about your character than I do about you, which is, needless to say, very little. So I took it upon myself to figure out what I _did _know about you, Miss Ariana, and the thing that stood out the most, apart from your… alluring beauty, was your marksmanship. So I'd like to give you this." From his coat, he pulled an object wrapped in a linen handkerchief and handed it to me.

Amazed and surprised, I accepted it in my hands. When I unwrapped it, I found a most beautiful pistol laying there. I gasped. "What is it?"

"It's a Master Torrent Pistol," said he with a smile. "I would have gotten you a Master Flintlock, identical to the one I have, had it not been for the weight of it, even without augmentations. However, this one is just as good. It's lighter, can hold up to six bullets and is very powerful. There is no pistol faster than this, I can assure you of it."

"Sir, I—I cannot accept this!" I gasped. "It must have cost you a fortune!"

He huffed. "What is a fortune to me? I own half of Albion in real estate. I could have bought you a hundred of those, without suffering from it."

I swallowed and looked down on the beautiful weapon in my hand. "It is a beautiful gift, sir. But I cannot accept it."

"Nonsense," he muttered—his patience was failing him. "I will not take it back. It's yours."

"But sir, I—"

"Ariana, there's no harm in accepting this," he sighed, "You're only accepting a gift, not a condition." The Hero rose and bowed. "Make sure to practice, my lady. When I return, I shall certainly wish to see how you've improved." He gave me one last bow before he turned to walk away.

I once again looked at the pistol in my hand, feeling rather guilty for not thanking him properly, and I jumped up from the bench and called out for him. He turned, with a much confused face. After swallowing, I walked up to him. "Thank you sir. It is a very thoughtful gift, indeed. I… don't think I've ever gotten something as nice as this."

He smiled. "I'm very glad you liked it."

Before I realised what I was doing, I reached up to press my lips against his cheek. Surely, I was very embarrassed by it, but it was innocent enough and would most certainly show my appreciation, because no matter what, I was very grateful for the pistol he had bought me. I would never be able to afford such a piece, and neither would any of my acquaintances, and even though I did not like the man, the weapon was one of the nicest things I had ever received.

My cheeks were much reddened when I took a step back and faced his much surprised countenance.

"Well madam," he said, clearly taken aback but much pleased, "that will indeed keep me alive for the return journey."

I blushed even more, if possible, and looked away. "Take care of yourself, sir," I told him as I curtsied.

He nodded. "I certainly shall, and I ask the same of you."

"Yes, sir."

Our eyes met for a moment, and a strange sensation welled up inside of me; I did not want him to leave. Yes, I did want him to leave, but at the same time, I wanted him to stay. Even though he was an awful man, and even though I was much uncomfortable in his company, I suppose there was something about quarrelling with him that was rather amusing. I would surely be awfully bored without him, considering I had had little else on my mind since he appeared in the city a few days ago. So much had been turned on its head, I hardly knew myself any longer. But I as watched him walk away, with the black dog next to him, a most worried feeling spread through me. I could not put my finger on it, but I had a feeling that something would go terribly wrong. I did not know what the Hero was to do in Bloodstone, but whatever it was, I could sense it would not end well. I looked at the pistol in my hand. Had it been a warning? Did he know as well that something sinister was upon us?

With a frown I headed back home. Mother was beside herself as she learnt to know that the Hero had left the city for Bloodstone, and said that filthy pirates would most certainly poison his food. I told her he would most certainly be fine, and that it would be nice that things would finally go back to normal for some time. I had still not forgotten about out little quarrel that very same morning, so I strutted about a bit more than I would about the Hero's departure, but it vexed my mother enormously, and more than once did I catch her muttering about how silly I was.

As the evening went along, I felt better. I did no longer regret Wolfsblade's absence, and when it was time for me to head out into the night, it was with pleasure, for I knew I would not run into him, and therefore, I again had my whole domain to myself. I had hesitated before taking the new pistol with me, partly because I did not know how powerful the weapon was, as partly because I did not know if I wanted Scarlet Rogue to be in any way associated with the Hero. But my curiosity of what the instrument could do was too great and in the end, I even went as far as going to the Cemetery to try it out. As usual, the Undead wandered the grounds, aimlessly and tragically while moaning despairingly. I took aim and fired, releasing a few of them from their misery, and was amazed by the sheer power that shot out from the muzzle, and yet, it was so easy to manoeuvre. Six bullets were double the capacity of my Clockwork Pistol, and reloading was done much easier as well. Perhaps I was being nothing but a hypocrite by accepting this weapon, and perhaps the right thing to do would be to not use it at all. But it was such a beautiful piece, and it was so powerful and majestic, it would be a disgrace not to use it.

As I continued into the city, it was evident the Hero was no longer there to stop the lawless. A bit after midnight, the streets were filled with drunkards, as they used to, and the scum had crawled up from underneath the bridge and stood waiting outside the tavern for the women to walk back home alone in the darkness so that they could follow and violate them. Several of the men waiting had already served time for violation, and I had been the one to put them to justice.

I waited as well for the tavern to close and the young women to leave, and as expected, at least one of the men chose a young victim to tail. I made sure none of the other women was being followed before I hurried to make sure the man would remain at a distance from the young girl. Her name was Belinda, and she was barely sixteen of age. In silence, I watched the man follow Belinda, but as long as he kept his distance, I did not interfere. He left the girl alone, and staggered back to the Town Square, and after a short while watching them again, I decided there was no danger and returned back home to lie down for some sleep.

The next morning, mother was still depressed over the Hero's departure and would not let me forget it. She was beside herself of grief that nothing happened between me and Wolfsblade. I, on the other hand, knew that the truth was much different. I would never please my mother by telling her all the things that had passed between the Hero and myself. Not even the bad things.

Mary was also much depressed. She dearly missed the man, saying she was quite taken by him and his charm. She claimed that her meeting with John had been very nice indeed, but that she had grown so used to seeing the frame of the Hero, a man like John simply was not good enough for her.

"Mary, are you mad?" I asked her. "John is a perfectly amiable man! You would be insane to let him slide! Besides, you've always fancied him, even when we were young!"

"Well," she started, "I seem to have raised my standards."

I chuckled. "Because the Hero's been here for a few days?"

Mary seemed rather crossed. "Well, it's easy for _you _to judge me, isn't it, you who've already snared the Hero, something almost every girl in town has tried to do?"

"I have not _snared_ him!" I groaned. "If you're so bloody interested in my businesses, it was just as I thought; the only reason he has taken a liking to me is because I am being difficult. When he returns, perhaps _that's_ the way you should go with that man. Give him a challenge he simply cannot refuse."

"You really think that would work?" Her anger was as if disappeared, "You really think that if I pretend to not be interested, _he_ will be?"

I rolled my eyes tiresomely. "I don't know, Mary. It might be possible."

"It did work for you, at least," Mary smiled.

"I didn't pretend."

"I know that," said Mary, "and that is exactly what I mean! You did nothing to lure him in, and yet he came to you! I call that magic."

I had to chuckle. "You are most amusing, Mary."

The day went on without any unexpected happenings, and at the end of mine and Mary's work shift, we took a turn about the Market to see what the stalls and shops had to offer. We tried on new garments at Bit of Skirt clothing shop, and Mary was so smitten by a beautiful creamy pink muslin dress, she simply could not let it go. She literally did not let it go, and in the end, the owner, Clara, was almost worried that Mary was intending to steal it.

"Oh," Mary cried, "I don't have enough money to buy it! Please Ariana, will you lend me some? I will pay you back, I promise, the moment we are given our wages!"

I had plenty of money I was not using, though I did seldom carry the money with me. But I had some gold on me, and it was most certainly enough to fill the void in her own purse. "Yes, I will lend you some. But then you will have to promise me to wear that dress next time you meet John."

Mary giggled. "I promise."

I pulled out my purse and paid the extra twenty gold Mary could not afford, and we left the shop in a very jolly mood. We visited Valerie in the Beautification Factory and received some lovely advice of how to best apply face paint. It was close to sundown when we finally headed back to Old Town, and by the crossing, we said good night and went different ways.

Mother had still not regained her joyfulness and was still complaining about the Hero's departure. She was complaining about the fact that she had not had the chance to invite him for dinner. Her lamb brisket was something, in her own words, the Hero simply could not die without tasting first.

"Had he stayed for another night," mother said over dinner, "I would surely have invited him for supper. The man certainly seems to be a large eater, and my brisket would have been perfect! I am sure he would have thoroughly loved it! You should take more interest in cooking, Ariana dear. When you get a husband, skills like that will certainly be of value."

"Oh, for Avo's sake, woman!" papa cut in. "Leave the girl alone! You have readied her for marriage since she saw the first day of light eighteen years ago! Let her have a mind of her own! I would rather have my daughter that is strong and independent than suppressed by a man that does not deserve her, and mark my words, Sarah dear, there are few men I would consider worthy of our daughter's hand, if there is any!" I had never seen my father this upset, and it was rather comforting. I was grinning like child when my mother had nothing to say in return, and my father seemed very pleased with this reaction. It was difficult to get the last word in this household, especially when there was something mother felt strongly about. Father had lived with it for so long, he had practically stopped gone against her.

Straightening his back and returning to his meal, he said most arrogantly, "I am sure the Hero will feel a great loss for not snaring our dearest Ariana, however, I think it shows great judgment on her side."

"Great judgment," mother mocked. "Indeed it shows _great judgment_; of silly judgment! I cannot believe you deny our only daughter the chance of marrying well!"

"It seems like _you're _more interested in this marriage than _she_ is!" father spat.

"I am just exploring different possibilities!" mother cried.

Before their argument derailed into relentless shouting, I excused myself as my brother and took him out for some shooting practice.

"What is it that mama is on about?" Aaron asked as we stood on our back yard. "About you and the Hero? Are you going to marry him?"

"No," I chuckled. "That's just mother's dream. Just as every woman in this city who has mothered a daughter surely wants the Hero to be her son-in-law, I am sure mama wants it as well."

"Good," Aaron concluded. "I don't think you should marry. I won't marry."

"Well, you're very young still, Aaron," said I. "In ten more years you might have found a girl you want to share the rest your life with."

"But Miles says—"

"Did I not tell you not to listen to _Miles_?" I sighed.

"In a sense, I want you to marry the Hero," Aaron continued. "Because if you would be Mrs Wolfsblade, then I could use that to beat Miles. You know, _his_ sister is married to a _Guard_! There isn't much that beats a Guard! More than a Hero, of course."

I chuckled. "Trust me, if I ever marry the Hero, then you can be sure it will be for you."

"You don't have to," said Aaron and took aim with his cork pistol. "When I grow up, I'll be like Scarlet Rogue. But a boy. Then Miles can have as many Guard-in-laws as he'd like."

Trying to hide my smile, I stroked the boy over his head and kneeled before him. "You're a good boy, Aaron. One day, you will be a great man, and any woman will be lucky to be your wife." When the boy seemed perfectly embarrassed, I smirked and ruffled his hair. "Now, let's shoot some bottles!"


	10. Chapter IX

**A/N: **Alright! I thank you all so, so much for reads, reviews, favs and alerts! :D I love you all for it! Alright, so, here we are; the nineth chapter. Dear Avo, I did not expect to get this far :O Just kidding ;) I hope you'll like it! Please, tell me what you think!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter IX**

It was strange that after only a fortnight, it was as if the Hero had never been to Bowerstone. It was just like before, when he was at the Spire. Much stranger was the fact that the only one who seemed to be thinking about him occasionally, was myself. Sometimes I found myself thinking about him when I had nothing else to do. Most of the times, I compared the two different sides he had shown _my_ two different sides, and tried to evaluate how each side weighed against the other.

It was as usual to be out as Scarlet Rogue, and with the new Master Torrent, it was a delight to keep the streets clean. No one opposed such a strong-willed woman with such an impressive pistol. During the days, things were perfectly usual and it could not be more boring. Mary was going on and on about her romance with John, and I hardly saw her after work. All I had to speak to were Patrick and Alan. I did not complain about that, though, for they were certainly very dear friends of mine, and in all honesty, they and Mary were really the only friends I had.

It was all normal, until one day. It was a windy day, an indicator that the summer was soon tipping over to autumn, and we had seen a few rainy days. Into the Market that day, came the monthly trade delivery from Oakfield, and with the goods, came a man. I watched him from the tavern, as he carried the crates into the cellar, back and forth, back and forth, across the tavern floor with his muddy boots, with ale from The Sandgoose in Oakfield. He was rather young, I would guess not yet five and twenty, and had dark blonde hair gathered with a black ribbon at his neck, and had brightly blue eyes. There was a sense of the sea about him, and his tall and slender frame seemed almost floating in its movements. Every time he walked past the bar, he looked at me, and I looked back and we exchanged polite smiles and I could see, as well as feel in myself, a wish for a conversation. There was something about the man that was intriguing and alluring. I wanted to know his name, at least.

There seemed to be a mutual wish between the two of us to speak to one another, and when the crates had all been carried down to the cellar, the men stopped for a drink. While his colleagues all took their seats in the tavern, the young man stayed behind, leaning casually against the bar, looking over the tavern for some time and then glancing over at me before again looking over the tavern.

"I… hope the beer is to your liking, sir?" said I.

He turned, his blue eyes reflecting a surprise that seemed almost charming. "Oh, yes! It is very… rich. This is the… Bowerstone Brown Beer?" His voice was delightfully soft and just enough playful to keep him from seeming juvenile.

"The very same," I smiled. "Should you feel the need for rest, we can offer very comfortable rooms just upstairs."

"I thank you," he smiled, "but I am perfectly well rested. Nasty weather, don't you think?"

"Yes," I said. "Very unpleasant, indeed. I believe it is the cold autumn winds from the north that come upon us."

"Yes, I believe it's the north western winds that come with words of winter. This time of year, Oakfield is much dreadful," he huffed. "The sea is unforgiving during fall and winter, you see."

"Are you from Oakfield, sir?" asked I.

"Indeed," said he. "Garrett is my name. May I ask for yours?"

I smiled. "You may. It's Ariana."

"Ariana… it's most poetic, don't you think?" he said. "Ariana… yes, it lies well in the mouth, falls beautifully off the tongue. Poetic, indeed!"

Blushing by his flattering, I looked away with a silly smile.

"I—oh, please, do forgive me, Miss," he hurried to say, defeat staining his voice. "I know not what I'm saying! Please, forgive me. I believe I've had one too many sips of my master's wine on the journey here. It rises my courage, and gives me the… but that is also crossing the line."

I chuckled. Oh, Mr Garrett was all politeness, and even his excuses seemed innocent and honest. "So I can assume you're not this forward at normal occasions?"

"No, miss," he smiled shyly. "I am most definitely not. To be quite honest, I would be rather… nervous… speaking to you."

"How come?" I was a bit surprised over my own ability to speak so plainly with the man, when I too was very embarrassed.

"Well…" He seemed taken aback, and seemed almost a bit lost on what to reply. "You're a… beautiful woman. I would not even stand here, had it not," he let out a sigh of defeat, "been for the wine."

I could not help but to picture the man as a small boy, ignorant of the big world, in for a lifelong education. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a room and rest a bit? Sleep for a while? Don't worry about payment; it's on the house."

He swallowed. "I'm… I'm sorry if I offended you, Miss Ariana. I am so very embarrassed."

"Oh, don't be!" I told him. "We can talk later, when you're feeling better."

"I would very much like that." He smiled gratefully as I handed him the key to one of the rooms, and as he headed upstairs, a most curious feeling spread in my stomach. There was something about him that was humble and nice and not at all as bloated and arrogant as most men tended to be. Then again, I hardly knew him, but I could not wait until I would speak to him again.

Time seemed to go much slower when one was looking forward to something, and as I wanted so dearly to speak to Garrett again, time seemed to take two steps forward and one step back. Mary had been observant, but had not spoken of the young man at all, more than asked of his name. She was clearly not as intrigued as I, but I was not surprised. Garrett did not seem to be Mary's cup of tea; he seemed far too different for that.

I was almost ready to go mad when he suddenly appeared at the staircase, his blue eyes vividly awake, and his dark blonde hair was, though still gathered at his neck, a bit wild.

"Had a nice rest?" I asked him.

He chuckled. "Indeed, I had! I believe a soft and warm bed was just what I needed after the dreadful weather."

"How long ago did you leave Oakfield?" I asked.

"Three days ago," he said. "We had to stop quite a few times. Rookridge is infested with bandits, even though Hammer is doing her very best to keep them away."

"You know Hammer?" I had always admired the female Hero Hammer and always thought she received alarmingly less attention than she deserved, at least in Bowerstone. Though it was debated whether or not Hammer was as strong a Hero as Wolfsblade, I still thought of her as much more valiant and honourable.

Garrett nodded. "Oh yes. She is always on good terms with the villagers. I remember when she was Hannah. Even then, she was loved by all of Oakfield. She is, I believe, all a good Hero ought to be. Not like, and I'm very sorry if you're offended miss, Mr Wolfsblade."

I chuckled. "Pray, why would I be offended by that?

He seemed rather confused. "Well… he's the Hero of Bowerstone." The poor man shifted nervously. "And, I've heard he has quite a hand with… the ladies."

"I am not like other ladies," said I with a much pleased smile. Perhaps I was only imagining it all, but there appeared to be a pleased glimmer in his blue eyes.

"Miss Ariana," said he, "are you engaged later this evening?"

"I am not," I answered.

At first, he seemed much stunned and perhaps a bit intimidated as if he did not at all expect me to not be engaged, but then he smiled. "Would you then perhaps show me a bit around town? I've never been to Bowerstone before, and it would be a pleasure to be shown by someone native to the city."

"I would love to," said I. "I finish work in two hours." He nodded with a much silly smile on his face and then left to find his company, and I was left with butterflies in my belly and a frantically beating heart. Though, he still seemed to be wobbling on the verge of being juvenile, but perhaps that was what was so special about him, for I knew there was something special about Garrett. I had hardly spoken to him, and yet I knew.

The remaining two hours were slow and tideous indeed, but he came when I finished and waited like a gentleman, and we set out so explore the city. I leant to know quite a lot about him. He was not afraid to talk openly about feelings and opinions, and I was much pleased to hear how he, as man, was rather liberal about certain things. He was indeed convinced that women were strong enough to be equal to men, and that marriages and marital roles were highly over-rated. He also explained how things were different in Oakfield; even though the Temple of Light attracted many couples for weddings, the monks preferred the Temple to be free from such events; the work was much more equal between the sexes, where men could work as bakers, and women could work as woodcutters; the sea was a much important source of income, and that he had worked as a sailor his whole life, just like his mother and his grandfather before him. Oakfield was indeed different, and I could not help but to wish to go there one day.

He told me a great deal about himself, about his childhood. He had spent a great deal of time aboard a ship, and it had been just recently he had started to work on dry land. He was not yet four and twenty, but had three months left. He was much amiable, and just enough silly to be just right. What was even better was that he had decided to stay in Bowerstone and try his luck. Oakfield had given him all it had, and it was not enough, he claimed.

We had a lovely evening, and when I returned home, both mother and father wondered why I was so cheerful. I did not tell them I had met the most wonderful man, and after dinner, I retired to my room to reflect upon my day. Had I been too naive to be so infatuated with him after only one day? Surely, he was very handsome. Perhaps not the handsomest I had seen, for no matter how much I did not want it to be true, Wolfsblade still held that title, but he was certainly handsome enough. He was very agreeable, and I was certain that anyone that knew him would think the same. Though, I did not know him, and could not let a sudden infatuation be the judge of this situation. I needed to stay sensible.

That night when I went out as Scarlet Rogue, I could hear some girls talk of him, but they were certainly not very impressed at all.

"His hair is too long."

"He's awfully small, is he not?"

"Did you hear his laugh? It is without a doubt the silliest laugh I've heard!"

"Well, what did we expect? He's from _Oakfield_."

It both angered me and pleased me that other women did not find him as compelling as I did; it meant I would certainly have no competition, would it come to that. I did not do well in competitions, and if any other, prettier woman would decide to demand his attention, I was certain I would soon be forgotten, for I had neither the same social abilities nor the same appearance as many of the other young women. They walked about with their corsets tightly laced and with their laces richly revealing. They had all painted their faces with daring rouge and daring lip colours. Their hair was always extraordinarily pretty, no matter if they had done something special to it or not. These women had been trained and groomed to catch the attention of men, and I had no chance against any of them.

But it also angered me, that they were speaking ill of him. There was nothing wrong with him; I even found his silly laugh much amiable. I did not want the others to find him laughable, to find him ridiculous. How would they ever take him seriously if they found him ridiculous? Would mother find him ridiculous? Surely, she would, after being so set on having the Hero as her son-in-law. Would Wolfsblade find him ridiculous? Most certainly, but why should I worry about his good opinion? He had nothing to do with me and my acquaintances. Yet, there was a most disturbing feeling inside of me, a feeling that was most vexing; I _did_ want the Hero's good opinion. Or at least, I wanted the Hero to respect Garrett. Somehow, I _wanted _the Hero to want me, and to be jealous of Garrett but respect him too much to hurt him. But I was running ahead of myself again. I could not think and act as if Garrett was the man for me, nor could I be certain that the Hero wanted me enough to call for a challenge. I did not yet know either of them as well as I wished. I had barely known Garrett for a day, so it was still too soon to let myself dream about a future with that man, and I hardly knew Wolfsblade at all, being so confused with his two sides, I did not know what was up and what was down any more.

The following days were much the same. I went to work, and Garrett often came to visit. He had already been hired by the local suppliers and usually ran from the docks and around the Market with crates. Mary had occasionally asked me about the new man, and I had told her the truth, that we were only friends. Every day after work, Garrett and I explored a new part of town, and learned to know each other a bit more, and the more I learnt to know him, the better I liked him. He was quirky and amusing and not at all as all the other men.

But at night, when Scarlet Rogue ruled, when wielding the Master Torrent, I often came to think of the Hero. Sometimes, I even wondered what he might be doing. At such times, I often cursed myself for being weak and predictable. I cursed myself for being like every other woman, so easily charmed by those brooding, steel eyes, even though I had had a taste of his rude manner and dangerous temper.

When I rose in the morning, a week after Garrett's arrival, it was yet again raining. I headed down into the kitchen where mother was making some bread, and Aaron was sitting by the table. Father had already headed to his workshop.

"Good morning, darling," mother said. "Dreadful weather today, don't you think?"

"Yes, dreadful," I agreed. I had some bread and cold ham with a cup of tea before I headed into the Market. I was clever enough to bring a hat, but I was still soaking wet when I entered the tavern. The fire was burning vigorously, and there were much more people inside than there usually was such a day, but they were all dead silent. Mary stood by the bar, her head hanging low.

"What's the matter?" I asked when I had joined Mary.

She looked up, her brown eyes positively flooding with tears. "Oh, Ariana!" she sobbed. "The—the Hero is—is dead!"

A cold shiver ran through my entire body, leaving me trembling. Dead? The Great Hero? No, that could not be. It must all be a mistake. I asked her if she was being serious, and she said she was, indeed. Lord Lucien had killed him that night, shot him, and gypsies had found his body upon Hero Hill. A traveller had brought the devastating news to town early this morning, and that was why the tavern was filled but silent; they were all grieving.

It took me a moment to understand that he was gone. The Hero was dead. While Mary sunk to a chair to dry her tears, I could not do else but to start working, as I always did. I had long wished the Hero do die in battle, so that the people of Bowerstone—the people of Albion!—would be rid of him forever, and yet I could not deny the breaking of my heart. Death was so near, so real now, it was almost too much. The greatest and deadliest man Albion had to offer, had not been so powerful as we had all thought. If a bullet was enough to kill the great Wolfsblade, surely there would be nothing that could not kill us. And with the pain and fear of Death came also the realisation that I would not run into the man again. The only thing I would have left was the memory of his strangling hands, as a sign of his ferocity and evil, and the beautiful Master Torrent Pistol and the occasional tingle in my hand after his tender healing, as a sign of his goodness and generosity.

"Tragic news, indeed." Garrett's voice startled me to the point where I almost shrieked as I looked up. His eyes were genuinely sorrowful, even though he did not think much of the man. "I… remember when my mother took me to Westcliff for the first time. I was but a boy, and was so excited that I was going to see the Champions of the Crucible, for real. And I happened to be there, that legendary time, when Wolfsblade received his name. I never saw a fiercer warrior in the whole of my life. He will be missed."

Without a single ounce of control, I shot out from the tavern, into the rain, leaving both Mary and Garrett most surprised. My chest was too tight to breathe, and my legs were almost too stiff and weak to carry me. But I ran through the mud around the tavern to the back, where I crouched by a corner and wept. I neither knew why nor how, but the news of his death had broken me, when I in truth had nothing really to be sad about. But I was, and could not stop the tears that mingled with the cold autumn rain.


	11. Chapter X

**A/N: **I must say that I am very flattered! I never expected so many to read and enjoy this story, and I am thrilled! :D Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews! I hope you'll like the new chapter as well!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter X**

The following days were much turbulent. The city was still grieving, but not only that; Guards from the Spire had started spreading in the city, causing much trouble amongst the citizens. The news of the Hero's death were still hovering anxiously above us all, and the fact that Lord Lucien was the one to kill him, did not give the Mayor a very good reputation amongst his people. However, it appeared as if he had counted on that, and therefore sent his most skilled Guards to spread terror in Bowerstone, to keep the rebellious mob at bay.

I had caught a cold sitting out in the rain, weeping, but Stephen did not let me stay at home to cure my fever. Instead, he wanted me to work double shifts, for the Guards had taken a certain liking to all his barmaids. Their vile behaviour made the Hero look like a true gentleman. At every thought of the Hero, I had to clench my jaw rather tightly not to cry. I still did not know why, but his death had upset me much more than I wanted. Garrett had asked me why, but I could not give him a valid answer, and there were not enough moments where we could talk freely without any of the Guards listening; I did not want to risk any of them overhearing about my acquaintance with the Hero, for even after his death, his dark, terrifying shadow lied heavily over his enemies.

Nights as Scarlet Rogue were now much more active. I never thought I would have to fight the authority, but now I found myself to be quite the rebel. The Guards took the liberty of raping and violating as they pleased, and beat people just for their amusement. I barely slept more than two hours a night, and in the end, my two identities were blended together into one, much angry woman. I started to spit into their ale, hoping to spread the disease I had yet been allowed to cure, rub their bread on the floor and dip their ham into the dirty washing water. I had suffered a few nasty comments from the Guards, an occasional slap and one had even tailed me as I was heading back home one night. It had come to the point where I had decided to wield my pistol at all times, not afraid to fire if it would come to that.

Garrett was valiant, indeed. Though he was much smaller than the Guards and did not have much to offer in defence, he was very active in telling them openly how wrong he thought they were. He went against their orders, and sometimes even suffered severe punishments for it. I told him I thought he was brave and that as long as there was still resistance, they would not take us over.

Mary was frightened. She had been tailed by a Guard for days now, and she could scarcely go anywhere by herself, afraid that the Guard might attack her. I walked her home each night, before I headed home to get a bite to eat and then head out as Scarlet Rogue. I kept a watchful eye over Mary's house, just in case the Guard would try to break in, for it would certainly not be the first time. Most people stayed indoors during the nights, leaving the streets of Bowerstone eerily empty but for the Guards wandering about.

The Guards had been terrorizing the city for a week, when the Guard following Mary decided to finally strike. It was on our way back home. The dark was heavy upon us, and there were not many on the streets this time of night. The Guard had followed us from the tavern, and just as we were to take our regular shortcut, Mary was snatched from me. She screamed loudly, but was silenced by the Guard as the clear ring of a slap echoed in the night. I saw no reason to delay my reaction and positively flew atop the Guard, growling viciously as I let my fists fly across the man's face. Indeed he had not expected being assaulted by a woman, so fiercely and so skilfully. The surprise was enough to make him release Mary, and I shouted at her to run back to the house, and she promised to call for help.

But I did not need help. No, I had waited for a week to give these men a piece of my mind. The Guard screamed for help, as he could not escape my hard beatings, but I could hear how more Guards were on their way, and after only half a minute, I was lifted to the ground by two of them. Their grips were hard and vicious, but all I wanted was to let them know who they were dealing with. However, perhaps it was good they did not know I was Scarlet Rogue, for that knowledge would most certainly have me executed. I kicked and growled as the Guards held me in place while another Guard helped the man to his feet.

His face was bleeding and his legs were shaking. With widened and furious eyes, he raised a hand and pointed at me. "Witch! Bloody witch! She's possessed, she is! Jumped at me like a rabid dog!"

"Take her to the cages," said a Guard, and I was taken away, even though I was kicking and screaming.

I was sure the entire city awoke from my shouting as I was taken to Fairfax Gardens, to the jail section. It was cold out, but there was no shelter from the night, and I was left to spend the night in the chilling winds, and it did nothing good for the cold I had caught that was yet not fully cured.

The morning after, I had barely slept at all. The same Guard that had cast me into the cage the night before came for me at sunrise, but as he opened the cage door, he did not release me.

"Ariana the Tailor's daughter, do you repent what you've done?" asked he in a much authorised tone.

"I have done nothing I should repent," I spat. "What have you imprisoned me for? I demand to know!"

"Social disobedience," replied the Guard, but as it left me laughing, he slapped me hard across the face. "Perhaps you'd do good staying another night?" Before I could protest, he had closed the cage once more, and I was left alone.

No matter how much I tried, I could not pry the door open. It was too heavy, and the lock was too secure. Falling to the ground, I burst into tears. There were more tears of anger than tears of fear and sadness, and I was left to spend another day in the cell.

That day, Garrett snuck into the prison yard, with the ambition of releasing me, but he could not pry the door open, either.

"It's too heavy!" he said. "I need the key!"

"Oh, don't get yourself in trouble, Garrett!" I begged him, my throat sore and my breathing heavy. I was well on my way of being seriously ill in pneumonia. "Please, just stay with me!"

He did not listen to me and started to look for a key in the Guards' quarters. Little did he know that there was a Guard on duty, sleeping in that quarter, and had he been only a little less silent, he would have woken the Guard up and most certainly ended up in one of these cells, himself. He left me with the promise that he would try his best to find a way to get me out, even though I begged him to stay and keep me company.

But the day went on, and no Garrett returned. The darkness fell, and night was suddenly upon me. I was thirsty and hungry, and the chilly nights had worsened my illness, causing me to quiver in a violent fever by the next morning. I waited and prayed for a Guard to come and let me out by sunrise, but there was none. I had neither the strength nor the will to stand up and scream for help. I had seen too many people die from cold and starvation to be ignorant of my situation. Out of exhaustion and devastation, I wept. A man in the cell next to me shouted at me to be silent, but I could not. I would die in that cage, from a belief of a better world, and a common cold.

It rained that day, and in the cold, unforgiving rain, I thought I was imagining, when I saw the tall, broad frame walk towards the cages with determined steps. It could not be real; the Hero was dead. Little more than seven days ago, the great Hero was shot in the head by the Mayor of Bowerstone, and died. Yet there he was, striding towards me determinedly. I tried to rise, but my legs were too weak, and I tried to speak, but my throat was too sore. Was he real, or was he greeting me on the other side?

The shrieking of the metal pierced my ears as the Hero tore the heavy door away and tossed it aside, and I was sure I was not dreaming. The noise had awoken the Guard, again sleeping on duty, and he came running out, his face reddened of anger.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "Oh, I will—" But the Guard never finished his sentence before he gasped loudly and cried out in fear and surprise. "It's _you_! But how—you're supposed to be—what kind of sorcery is this?!"

The bright flash of the electric current that shot through the Hero's hand and stunned the Guard was enough to force me to shield my eyes, and when the light had faced, I looked up to face the Hero as he stood, tall and intimidating, in the doorway. There was a scowl on his face, a rather mean one, and he said not a word as he strode up to me and lifted me from the ground to carry me away. He was flesh and he was bone. He was real. He was alive. But how could it be?

"You're dead," I managed to say through a hoarse whisper.

"I was," he answered rather coldly, but then he looked at me, and the steel eyes were fuller of life than I had ever seen them. "But death was not my destiny." He lowered me down on a bench in the gardens and removed his coat to hang it over my shoulders, shielding me from both the cold and the rain. It was rather heavy and big, but it was warm. He brought a hand to my forehead, feeling my temperature, and a much worried expression spread across his face. Kneeling in front of me and pulling out a flask of Healing Potion from the coat, he handed it to me. "Drink this. You're not well."

I did as told and as soon as the remedy slid down my throat, I could feel its healing powers do wonders to my body. The Hero kept his worried gaze fixed on me, and I was pleased the fever had reddened my face enough to hide my blushes. "What happened?" I asked.

"Lucien made a mistake," he said. "He underestimated me, and it cost him greatly."

I swallowed. "What did you do to him?"

"I did what I had to do, and he will not come back," he answered. There was a moment of silence between the two of us before he carefully caressed my face. "But don't you worry, Miss Ariana. I know what horrors Lucien's men spread while I was gone, and shan't let them terrorise you any longer. How are you feeling?"

"I—much better, thank you." There was a curious feeling growing inside of me, a surprising happiness of his sudden resurrection. I did not know how to act nor what to say. I looked about. "Where's Shadow?"

His face turned dark and a daunting look veiled his eyes. There were blood and murder in those grey eyes as he slowly shook his head. "He took him away from me."

I realised that his anger, that frightening look in his eyes, was grief. He had lost his best friend, and there was something inside of me that grabbed hold of my heart as I understood how terribly sad the man must be for losing that furry creature. I had never spoken to Wolfsblade about the dog, but I had seen how the two of them, dog and master, had been as one. Slowly, I placed my hand atop of his as it rested on the bench next to me. His hand was terribly big underneath my pale, almost bluish one. "I'm so sorry."

Again, he shook his head. "I wasn't your fault, you have no reason to be sorry. Come now, Miss Ariana. You need to get some roof over your head and put on some dry clothes. The Healing Potion may have cured your fever, but you will need to rest."

"I feel just fine," I said. "Perhaps I'm a bit cold, but I am cured."

He gave me a weak smile that barely broke through the angry veneer. "I strongly doubt the physical damage is the only damage to be cured. Miss Mary told me you had been in there for two nights."

My cheeks burned as I looked away. He had asked Mary about me? Or had Mary gone to him? No matter, he had come for me, to save me. I could not deny the charming aspect of a saviour, no matter how much I may have disliked the man for as long as I could remember. "Yes."

"Mark my words, Miss Ariana," said he with a most terrifying sternness in his voice, "that whoever did this to you, won't last the night."

I tightened my jaw. Surely I was very angry at the Guard for locking me up and leaving me in the cold rain, but I did not wish him dead! "Please sir, let it be. Lucien is gone; they hold no authority any longer! Give them a scare, and they won't do it ever again!"

But he would have none of it. "They deserve nothing more but cold justice. Now, go on home. I believe your mother and father must be much worried, and not to mention your baby brother."

Defeated, I nodded as I rose from the bench. My legs were still very weak, and I felt my body fail me, but I was caught by the Hero, and I could not help but to cry out in frustration. "Forgive me, sir, I hate being helpless!"

This led him to chuckle, a much warming chuckle, as he carefully aided me to my feet. "Miss, I believe you. I have yet to meet a woman more determined than you."

I wanted to think of something witty to say, but there was nothing. Instead, a shot was heard, and the Hero suddenly crouched much violently and pulled me with him.

The Guard that had clearly woken up from the electric shock stood shouting some yards away. "Come on, Wolfsblade! Fight a real man, you coward!"

Knowing from years of gossip, that the Hero's great weakness was that he could not resist a challenge, I was horrified—but not surprised—as he rose with a growl to boldly walk towards the armed Guard, without even reaching for his pistol. The Guard shot him, several times, but the Hero kept on walking. I could not see what truly happened, but the pistol fell silent, and the man fell lifeless to the ground. The Hero remained for a moment, and I could see how he somehow crouched, grabbing his one shoulder and having troubles leaning on one leg. I realised that I was wearing his coat where he stored his Healing Potions. I was just about to hurry to him on shaky legs, when he turned and limped back, and even though he was the Great Hero, and even though he had just returned from the dead, I could sense no dishonour from him being hurt, and I had to admit that it was indeed an amiable quality I had not seen before.

He barely made it to the bench before he collapsed onto it, a heavy flow of blood streaming from his left shoulder and his right thigh. "Ariana, give me a flask."

I did as told, and watched as he poured the remedy onto his thigh, then onto his shoulder, before he drank the rest of it in one go, devouring every last drop of the ruby substance. I felt helpless and simply in the way, but I could not stop my own hands from moving to his shoulder, rubbing the remedy carefully over the wound. He seemed just as surprised as me, but said not a word. I felt the wound close under my fingertips, and yet I kept rubbing. He clutched his hand over mine, softly and tenderly.

"Miss Ariana," he started, "I have to tell you, that I have scarcely had anything else on my mind lately, but you. I know you don't feel the same, however, I needed you to know. But I promised you to stay away, and that I will do."

I stared blankly at his hand on mine. I did not dare to look him in the eyes. Indeed, I did not feel the same, and yet… he had been on my mind much more than I wished, and I could not deny the beating of my heart at this very instance.

He sighed heavily as he straightened, and I quickly pulled my hand away. "You should get back home. You must be terribly hungry."

I nodded, knowing that the longer I would stay with him, the more awkward would our conversation become. I removed the coat as I rose, and despite his protests, he had to accept it. I thanked him again for saving my life, before I hurried away.

"Take the short-cut through the wall!" he called after me, and I turned and said, "I know!"

Just before I dove in through the small hole in the wall, though, I took a moment to reflect upon the lack of people in the garden. Even the archaeology site was empty. But without much further thought—and a burning wish to be as far away from the Hero as possible—I hurried through the wall and skidded along the forest path towards Old Town, to warmth and safety, where I would kiss my parents and hold my brother until he could not breathe. But also where I could reflect upon what had happened, and decide whether or not I should fear my opinion of the man, the Hero, to be distorted. Indeed, I could not deny the tingling feeling in my belly at the thought of how he had so easily torn that heavy door away and carried me from the court yard. Neither could I forget how he so tenderly had cared for me and made sure I would be just fine.

"Don't let yourself be fooled," I reminded myself before I stepped into my house, where mother greeted me with tears streaming down her face.


	12. Chapter XI

**A/N: **Thank you for your lovely reviews! :) Alright, so, heads up, this is a rather dark chapter! I never intended this story to be like this.. oh dear, I can't seem to stay away from it! Oh well, there has to be some darkness to compliment the light, right? :D Anyways, I hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XI**

Mother had me stuffed with food and dressed in winter clothes. I was ready to burst of fullness when she finally decided that I had had enough. Father urged me to drink warm tea with soothing honey, and Aaron could not let go of me.

"I thought you'd die!" he squealed again and again, tightening his arms around my full belly.

When not longer being cold or hungry, I felt like new. The Healing Potion the Hero gave me had worked wonders, and I was finally thinking clearly.

I was not the only one hearing about Wolfsblade's miraculous resurrection, but I did indeed seem to be in the dark about certain things. Mother told me about the horrifying battle that had broke out on the Town Square when the Hero entered the city. All the Guards had attacked him, but he had beaten them all, throwing them into a cellar, bound and blindfolded.

"At dusk," mother said, "there is said to be a town meeting at the Square!"

A chilling realisation ran through me; did the Hero not tell me that whoever locked me into that cage would not last the night? Was there to be an execution on Town Square? Surely, not even someone as ruthless as Wolfsblade would do such a thing? But at dusk, we made our way towards the Market. The whole of Bowerstone seemed to be gathered, and we barely made it to the gentlemen's clothing store. People were muttering to each other, keeping their arms crossed and jumping on their toes to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

Aaron, who was shorter than the mob before him, jumped vigorously up and down. "I can't see anything! What's happening? Oh, if I weren't so bloody short!"

"Watch your mouth, young man!" mother scolded him. She, too, reached on her toes to try and see what it was all about.

Father stood back, keeping his arms crossed. He did not seem very amused, nor curious. He seemed angry.

I joined him with a much worried face. "What's the matter, papa?"

"Bloody simpletons," he muttered as he referred to the crowd. "Are we going back centuries in time? Is this how we should solve our problems? By public execution?! My father witnessed the last public hanging in Bowerstone, when he was just a boy, and it haunted him for the rest of his life!"

I was taken aback. I had never seen my father this upset about hardly anything. He kept his arms so tightly crossed over his chest, his shoulders were reaching his ears. "Are you sure this is an execution?"

Papa huffed. "I heard some lad mention it as we were walking here. Apparently, that _Hero's _got them lined up at the Square. He might have come back from the dead, but he is evil."

For some curious reason, my father's words stung sourly. It was as if there was a part of me that did not want the Hero to be cruel and evil, while another part knew that he certainly could be. A sudden determination settled over me, as I turned my back on my father and marched straight through the thick crowd. I pushed myself through the thick of people, not caring about their remarks of my rudeness. A fair distance from the front, I found Garrett. He had come from the other direction, and upon seeing me, a much worried face was exchanged to a relieved one.

"I thought you were still in prison!" he exclaimed. "Please, forgive me! I was following a Guard to try to take his keys, but then the Hero came, and—"

I shook my head and grabbed hold of his shoulders. "There's no need, Garrett! We need to stop whatever is going on!"

"It's going to be a bloodbath!" Garrett whispered horrified. "Wolfsblade's dragged them all out. Come look!" He pulled me along to the front row of people, and there, with their backs facing the mouth of the bridge, sat fifteen Guards on their knees, weeping red tears from open wounds, their hands bound behind their backs and with their mouths covered with cloths. Wolfsblade circled them, throwing dark glares at each and every one of them.

The crowd was anxious for it all to begin, and I was anxious for it all to end.

When the last string of sunlight had disappeared in the west, veiling the black dressed Guards with darkness, the Hero took a deep breath. "Bowerstone," he called, and with a flick of his hand, great fires lighted up behind the bound Guards, as a blazing back curtain of a macabre show, "here they are, the men that have only been here for little more than a week, and have still managed to put fear in each and every one of you. They were sent here by Lord Lucien, you're Mayor. He betrayed you. He humiliated you. He thought he could prove his power over you by sending his men to do as they pleased with you. But he has paid his price. It is time these men do it as well. Tell me," his demanding voice was so loud, it startled me, "what crimes would you have them responsible for?"

"They beat my poor husband so violently, he's now confined to his bed!" cried a woman from the crowd, and several concurred.

The Hero nodded. "Assault. What else?"

"Robbery!" shouted a man. "Robbery!" Again, several concurred, and there seemed to be a rising anger and anticipation amongst the crowd. I, on the other hand, exchanged much worried looks with Garrett, who did not seem at all amused.

"Robbery!" Wolfsblade repeated, a grim smile covering his lips. "We can't have _that_ now, can we? What more?"

"He _raped_ my daughter!" The hysterically furious man came from nowhere, on thin legs and with a long, white beard, and advanced the row of Guards with an extended finger. There was a tumult spreading through the crowd, and the man was stopped by another citizen before he had reached the bound Guards. Several from the audience started shouting about rape and sexual assault, and the Hero had to raise his hand to silence them all.

"Violation!" he repeated. "That is simply unacceptable." While the crowd waited for him to continue, he took a moment to look around, and suddenly, our eyes met.

I quickly looked away. This did not feel right. All the things he claimed was wrong, all the things he wanted to have the Guards punished for, were crimes he had committed himself. I had no proof of the thesis, but I was fairly convinced that he must have stolen something sometime, and I did know that he had assaulted a fair amount of people, in Bowerstone even. What concerned his intimate ventures, I did not know, but there were no doubts in my mind that he must have, on at least one occasion, taken a girl against her will. No, indeed, this did not feel right, at all.

"But assault, robbery and violation," the Hero continued, the audience tense with anticipation, "is not all. These men have even stretched as far as attempted murder. Miss Ariana, were you not imprisoned for two nights, without food or shelter, exposed in the cold autumn rain and chilly nights while already having an incipient disease?"

Shocked by his sudden address, I could not speak.

"Yes, she was!" My mother had forced her way closer, most certainly driven by her incurable curiosity, and was not reluctant to side with her beloved Hero. "She was!"

Nodding with a pleased countenance, he looked back at me. "Attempted murder. This girl was dying of fever when I found her; the Guards did not care."

"Kill them!" shouted a man from the crowd after a moment's eerie silence, and many agreed.

"Aye, kill them all!"

"Throw them into the fire!"

"Shoot them!"

"Show no mercy!"

The Hero raised his brows as the people kept chanting. "Kill them? Are you certain?" The smugness in his face was evident, and I was surprised no one else saw his pleasure in this torture. While more and more people started to agree with the plans of execution, the Hero turned to me. "Miss Ariana, which of these men threw you behind bars?"

The crowd silenced and I could feel how every pair of eyes at Bowerstone Market turned towards me. Blood disappeared from my face as I was left to decide a man's fate. Had I had my mask on, with my sword and pistol in hand, I would not have doubted before making my opinion known, but here, exposed as Ariana, I felt my knees slowly buckle beneath me.

"Well?" His voice was like silk, but dangerous and bloodthirsty.

My words were gone. I could not utter a single sound, and as a shielding saviour, Garrett put a hand around my shoulders and slowly pulled me back, away from this insanity.

"It was him!" Mary's shrill voice echoed in the silence, causing both me and Garrett to stop in our tracks, and she stepped forwards on the muddy Square. She pointed towards a man, and with the cloth at his mouth and with the fear in his eyes, I barely recognised him. But it was him. It was the Guard slapping me and leaving me in the cold rain.

The Hero did not wait for my validation before he violently grabbed hold of the bound Guard and dragged the man forwards before again forcing him down onto his knees. "Was it him? Look real close, Miss Ariana; is this the man who locked you in and left you to die?"

Feeling short of breath, I shook my head. "I—I… yes, but—"

At the word "yes", the Hero did not need anything more before he drew his Flintlock and passed a bullet through the Guard's skull. The man fell dead to the ground, with the sound of the shot still echoing between the buildings, scarlet blood seeping out from the wound, mingling with the mud on the ground. The light of the fire danced across the dead body, and reflected morbidly beautifully in the pool of blood. The crowd gasped, and I could not breathe. The man was dead, because of me.

"Well, you _told_ me to kill him," Wolfsblade addressed the audience innocently. The crowd was silent. "This is what an execution looks like. There's nothing glorious to it. Nothing gracious about it. It's only cold and hard justice. This man might have had a wife, and a child on the way, and yet he decided to nearly kill an innocent girl. But who would suffer the most, had he succeeded? The girl spared from this cruel world? Her family, forever bound to grieve their lost daughter and sister, and perhaps even wife and mother? Or his wife, now having to live with the fact that her husband is a coldblooded murderer? The crimes these men have committed do not only affect the direct victims of their crimes; they affect us all. With that in mind, I give _you_, good people of Bowerstone, the role as judge. Think about your daughters, about your sons, your sisters and your brothers, your wives and your husbands. How many of you have been affected by these men's cruelties, and what price do you want them to pay for it?"

The audience spent another moment in silence. I felt numb and emotionless. There had been something dying inside of me when that shot passed through the man's head. For ten years, I had strived to make Bowerstone a better place, and bring justice to the people. But never, not once, did I see justice as the death of someone, and I still did not. It was all so very wrong, and yet the people did not see it.

"They've gone after our children," a man finally said as he turned to his fellow citizens. "They've ravished them, beaten them… I say they deserve to die!"

The enthusiastic agrees were not as wide as they had been a mare ten minutes ago, but there were still mutters of concurrence coming from the thick of people.

When no one went against the idea of having them all executed, Garrett boldly took a step forwards. "This is mad, people! We cannot put these men down without giving them a proper trial!"

The Hero slowly turned his head to Garrett, and if looks could kill, Garrett would be no more. "A proper trial? With what? Should we hire barristers?"

"We should give them a chance to explain themselves!" Garrett replied. "Lucien is gone, they have no master to be punished by! We all know what it's like following rules we don't like! Perhaps these men were only doing what was asked of them, afraid that they might be punished if they didn't?"

Wolfsblade gave him a laugh. "Afraid they might be punished? Boy, you don't know much about the Spire, do you? These men know nothing but pain and punishment. That's what they're trained for. You cannot take that away from them by giving them a _trial_."

"Just because you're _trained_ for something, doesn't mean you enjoy doing it!" Garrett persisted.

"Was your daughter violated by any of them?" asked a man from the front of the crowd.

"No, but—"

"Then who are you to judge us?!" cried the hysterical man with the exceptionally long beard.

"Well, fine then!" Garrett cried. "Kill them! But which one of you would be able to strike those men down, and live with it for the rest of your life?"

"Give me that gun, and I'll shoot them all!" barked a big woman as she forced herself out from the crowd. "Those nasty little pigs raped my fifteen-year-old daughter, in broad daylight, and beat her senseless afterwards!"

Again, the audience started shouting; Bowerstone seemed to be boiling. Garrett had to take a step back, and I welcomed him by my side and hooked his arm to mine.

Wolfsblade glared at us, both and me and at Garrett, and the firelight shone in his eyes in such a fashion, it burnt right through me. He then glanced out over the masses. "Should they die? Yea or nay?"

There was a majority of yeses, and I had to admit my defeat. As did Garrett. I had a feeling something worse would come out of this, something the people did not think about. I did not know what, nor did I know if I was right. But the feeling was strong and compelling. We stood at a crossing; would this decide what road we would take? No Mayor, a decreasing economy and increasing poverty. That Lord Lucien long had neglected this city was not a secret, nor was it that he was considered a tyrant, however, we had been living under the knowledge that there was someone surveying the city, be it Lord Lucien's confidant or be it Lord Lucien himself. Now when people knew there was no one above them, no one to save them should things go horribly wrong, much would be different.

The Hero was quiet for a moment after the vote had been concluded. He took a moment dusting his pistol off before he spoke, "those of you who want these men to feel the bitter sting of justice, you will take pride in the red sun that will rise." He was the self-proclaimed executioner, and no one opposed it. They needed not to ask for his services; killing people were nothing new to him. "Those of you who cannot stand to watch, I advise you to leave now."

Looking about, I noticed that some people were brave enough to leave. Garrett and I had only to look at each other once to know that we were certainly not staying. As we walked passed Mary, I extended my hand, expecting her to take it and come with us, but she stood her ground. Her head was lowered, and she barely blinked.

"Mary?" I asked.

She shook her head. "They deserve this, Ariana. For what they did, to me, to you, to us all. They deserve this." She raised her head and looked at me with her chocolate eyes. "I want to stay."

Tears were burning behind my eyes, but I did not let them out. She had made her choice, and I could not change it. Though I knew Mary to be a sensible girl who could not stand watching innocent creatures hurt, I could see in her eyes that she truly believed these men to be evil. Nodding, I let her be and continued away with Garrett. We did not speak as we headed towards Old Town with the rest of the few citizens that left the scene. No one spoke. I could hear how Wolfsblade's dark and deep voice bellowed through the growing darkness, and every word aroused the crowd and we could both hear them cheer. We heard a shot, and I took hold of Garrett's hand. It was warm and it was safe, and he tightened it around mine.

"What will happen now?" he asked.

"I don't know, Garrett," I replied. "I don't know."

"I mean, I haven't been in this situation before," he continued, "with the Mayor gone and with the city is such a state! Things can get worse without proper guidance and management."

I nodded. "And it will. It's only a matter of time before there will be people popping up, claiming to be what the city needs. There will be differences in opinions, and there will be a lot of fighting. People will start playing dirty tricks on each other, and some might even assassinate to eliminate competition. The Mayors of Bowerstone have always come from wealthy families, and there has seldom been hope for the poorer people to get their chances. Now when he's dead and there's not even the start of an election campaign, the candidates will come from everywhere, causing trouble. This could mean civil war."

Garrett tightened his jaw. Perhaps he had been thinking the same.

"What we need, what Bowerstone _needs_, is someone willing to risk everything to save the lives of others!" I continued. "Bowerstone needs a strong leader, a person that is willing to give up his or hers life for the people of Bowerstone! We need an intelligent leader, one who can reflect upon things, be logical about the decisions and know what is best for this city!"

He chuckled. "Perhaps, this city needs a woman?" Then he stopped in his tracks, nodded and grabbed hold of my shoulders. "Let them have their revenge tonight, but tomorrow, we will begin our work; you'll be running for Mayor!"

I stared at him, at first horrified, but then I burst out laughing. "You're mad, you are!"

"No!" Garrett said. "What you just said, was a perfect description of _you_! You're wise and care more about this city than anyone I know! I've heard you talk to Alan several times about democracy and civil rights and poverty and… and… and you're right! You're absolutely right! You should be Mayor!"

Shaking my head, I broke loose from his grip and continued towards Old Town. Me? Mayor? Insanity. Then again, Scarlet Rogue would most certainly fit well in the role as Mayor, but I was not Scarlet Rogue. I was Ariana, and Ariana was not a leader. I could not even stand up with Garrett in front of the citizens to talk some sense into them, so how could I ever be their Mayor? And then, it hit me; _I _did not try and talk some sense into the people; _Garrett _did.

It was decided; we had a new Mayor.


	13. Chapter XII

**A/N: **My beloved readers, I hope you're all feeling well! :) I am! It's finally weekend, the spring is upon us here in the cold and dark Kingdom of Sweden, and I can feel the warmer winds melting the ice! Thank you all for reading and reviewing; it is, as always, much appreciated, and it's the reason I do this! :) Here's chapter twelve!

Enjoy!

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**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XII**

Of course, making Garrett the new Mayor would require an awfully lot of luck. No one quite liked Garrett; he was too strange, they thought. I, however, thought he would be the perfect candidate. We had struck a deal; he would run, if I did.

But as I had feared, people from all over the city started to claim they would be the best Mayor, and soon enough, the city was in a haze. The execution had been the leaping board to something much bigger, something that was unstoppable when it had finally gone into motion. Wolfsblade stayed in the city, keeping a watchful eye over the campaigns, and even though I still felt a strong reluctance towards the man, I could not deny the importance of his managing manner. He seemed very anxious to have a new Mayor elected, and in some sense worked as Mayor in the time being. He made sure every candidate had his—or hers, though women were sparse—moment at the platform, and that they were all equally treated with respect.

But when Garrett made his first appearance at the platform, I could clearly see a certain spitefulness from the Hero. He did not at all like Garrett, and in the course of the three days that had passed after the Hero's return and the much dramatic execution, he had proved this more than once.

It was the little things that were the most revealing; the deadly glares Garrett received from the Hero each time they passed each other, the nonchalance and arrogance the Hero portrayed each time Garrett tried to speak and the much violent undertones Wolfsblade's words had each time he spoke to Garrett were only some of the things that made me quite certain that Garrett and the Hero did not go well together. But it was anything but surprising, and it would certainly be a much greater surprise _had_ they actually gone well together. While Garrett was calm, sensible and concerned about the people, Wolfsblade only thought of himself and the best ways to have what he wanted. His management in the city during the last days had been a diversion from that set of qualities, though, but I was not as easily fooled as the rest of them.

Though a lot of people had started to look at their beloved Hero in a different light after his miraculous come-back from the dead, and after showing his absolute power by executing the Guards on the Town Square, they still loved him. Even though they now realised how dangerous and how dark his mind truly was, they seemed to respect him even more. He was no longer the Hero that went out to fight bandits and return to have a drunken night out with three women in bed at a time, but the Hero that could actually ruled them all, for he certainly had the power. And yet, he was not less loved. If possible, the new, turbulent situation in Bowerstone caused this new, dark opinion of him to be even more alluring to most young women.

But not to me. I, who thought I had seen a good side of him, a gentle man hidden beneath scarred skin and tough muscles, were much disappointed, and I was once again reminded why I never liked the man to start with. And even more frustrating was the fact that he, personally, supported my campaign. He wanted me to be Mayor, and he was very open about it. Though he did keep his promise and kept his distance, I still sensed his presence in everything I did. I had received a raise in my wages, because Wolfsblade had bought the tavern from the indebted Stephen. A crate stacked with veal and venison had been left by the doorstep to our house, filling our winter stock, and no one I knew except for Wolfsblade would ever dare going to where one could find deer. One day, I found a small wooden box of bullets that had been left for me on the bar, and according to the inscription on each bullet, they were the types that exploded while hitting the target, specially made for fighting Hollow Men.

His mark was everywhere, on everything, and sometimes, I even felt his eyes on me, though I could not see him myself.

Three days after the execution, I sat with Garrett by the docks, preparing for tomorrows big speech, which would be the first in our endeavours to gather followers. Admittedly, I did not put as much thought and ambition into my speech as Garrett did, but I did not want to be the Mayor. I could not lead the people, and there was no doubt in my mind, that the thought of a female Mayor would sicken most people's minds.

Garrett, however, had more and more grown into the role of candidate. He actually believed he would be able to make a difference, and his passion was most amiable. But today, he seemed rather dismal and was not at all his usual self.

"Are you feeling well?" I asked him gently.

"Yes," he sighed, though his voice proved otherwise.

"Are you certain?" I asked again. "You're awfully pale."

"I'm perfectly fine," he assured me as he smiled. "It's just… well, to be frank, it's the Hero." Huffing in frustration, the young man crossed his arms as he begun pacing back and forth. "Who does he think he is, deciding like a king, as if he uses us all as jacks on a board?"

Not knowing what to answer him, I remained silent. I knew Garrett did not think well of the Hero, and with every reason. However, though I did find his behaviour at the execution appalling, his governing manner during the past few days had been much needed, and though I did not like to admit it, I thought he had done fairly well. He had kept the citizens safe and hitherto he had managed to keep the streets clean from fighting. Apparently he was also aware of the great risk of massive fights in times like these. But I could not tell Garrett of my thoughts, frightened he might see me as struck by the Hero's charm, and thus be like every other girl in Bowerstone.

"And you must have noticed his very sneaky attempts to snare you!" Garrett then continued. "Pretending to support you… pathetic!"

I seldom felt offended by things said to me, but that was an offence, indeed. "Why, you don't know, Garrett, perhaps he actually _does _think me suitable as Mayor. You did, remember?"

"Oh, yes," Garrett huffed, "of course the Hero would want to see a woman rule, because he is famous for being so equal."

"Perhaps there are some hidden sides to the Hero," said I. "He _is _friends with Hammer, you know. That has to be something?"

"Are you defending him?" Garrett seemed more amused than angry.

"No, I am defending myself," said I. "By supposing the Hero could impossibly support me, you are thus suggesting no one that sympathises with the Hero could either."

"I did not mean that!" Garrett gasped. "Oh, please Ariana, don't think that! I just meant that the Hero is utterly childish if he thinks he can win you over by supporting you!"

I rolled my eyes. "Why do you think, if you're so awfully convinced he isn't really supporting me, he is trying to win me over? There are plenty of girl in this city that would love to please the Hero, surely in the most bizarre ways, so why choose someone he has to work thrice as hard to get?"

"Because you're—" but he stopped himself before finishing the sentence, leaving me much curious.

"Because I'm, what?"

He sighed. "Oh, never mind."

"Well, I would dearly like to know what you're accusing me of," I persisted.

"I just think that…" He took a deep breath. "I just think that you're… the most beautiful girl I have ever seen." His blue eyes glimmered, and his dark blonde hair swayed lightly in the breeze, and I was so moved by his confession, I could hardly breathe.

No one had ever told me that before, at least not as Ariana, and I was much flattered. Perhaps, I was even a bit _too_ flattered. In fact, I was so flattered, I was momentarily repelled by it; how could he possibly think that about me? Such a worldly, intelligent man as Garrett? No, he would not fall for a simple peasant like me. Perhaps he would if he actually knew I was Scarlet Rogue, someone interesting, someone actively fighting for a better world, but not Ariana. All I did as myself was to wander about, muttering about how terrible I found the world, when I in truth had seen nothing but Bowerstone. So why did he tell me that? Perhaps he was not the gallant man I thought him to be, but wanted what every other man wanted from a woman, and expected me to fall under his spell with a few nice words and the smile of a heartbreaker? Indeed, I would not fall. I rose from the wharf and dusted off the dirt from my skirt. "That's very nice of you, Garrett. Now, we really need to—"

"Did you not hear?" he asked. "I think you're the most beautiful girl in Albion! Skorm, even beyond that! And you're not only that! You're clever and strong and… and… Ariana, why can't you see how special you are?!"

Tightening my jaw, I squared my shoulders. "Garrett, this is not the time to—"

"That's why the Hero's trying so hard to have you!" Garrett continued, his temper bursting over. "When will you realise that? You're a triumph for him! The elusive girl with the copper hair; people are talking, Ariana, behind your back! On the one hand they think you're all too plain to be anything special, and on the other hand, they think the mystery that enshrines you is alluring! The people will soon enough understand your beauty, and the Hero wants to get there first!"

There were so many offences in his statement, together with undeniable flatters, I did knew neither what to say nor what to do. But feeling weakened by the disability to give a sharp retort, I walked away. Garrett followed, but eighteen years of exploring the city and its different nooks and crannies against his scarce month, I quickly disappeared from him, away into the haze of buildings. So many thoughts ran wild in my head, I could barely set my mind of any of them. In the end, I ran to the only place I knew to find peace, though the dark was soon upon me.

The Bowerstone Cemetery was quiet and serene, and even though I knew I had only a short while before I would have to leave, I felt how the soothing air relaxed my muscles. Until I heard his voice.

"Miss Ariana?" It startled me, the dark voice of the Hero, and I turned. He seemed surprised to find me there, but please nonetheless. "What's the matter?"

Shaking my head, I dismissed his worries. "I'm all right."

"Well, you seemed rather upset running in here," he observed.

"Yes, I…" But there was no excuse. I could think of nothing to say to him that would explain my much hurried entrance. "…wanted to see the Cemetery sunset before I went on home."

He narrowed his eyes. My lie was much obvious, but he accepted it. "Oh well, it's not as grand as the Bower Lake sunset, but I suppose it's tolerable. It exhibits the silhouette of the city very nicely, indeed."

Slightly relieved by his ease of mind, I exhaled. "Yes… yes, it does."

"Why don't we sit down?" he asked. "So we can watch it together?"

I was a little reluctant at first, but succumbed to the easiness of his manner and the refreshing look of serenity in comparison to Garrett's troubled face. So I sat down onto a bench next to him as we watched the sunset. "Thank you," said I after a moment's silence, "for all the gifts. They were very thoughtful, indeed. Mother, especially, is very happy about the meat."

He chuckled lightly. "I admit I did want you to understand it way my doing," he said, "even though I kept it as subtle as possible." He was silent for a moment before he sighed. "Miss Ariana, I know I promised not to pursuit you, and I'm a man of my words. Those gifts… I simply wanted to show you that I care for you."

Dear Avo, what was the matter with men today? "That's very good of you, thank you." But I could no longer hold it all in. I turned to him. "Mr Wolfsblade, I am going to ask you a question, and I would really appreciate you to tell the truth; why are you supporting me in the election?"

He raised his brows. He had clearly not expected that question to be given. "Well, I… think you're a strong candidate. You have more rational thoughts than most of those drunkards standing on that podium, and double the courage." He sighed. "Politics is tricky. People don't know what they want or what they believe in, not even when someone tells them. These people will choose the sturdiest, slowest and most incompetent brute there is to be Mayor, because that's the situation this town is in now. They're angry, they're violent and thus they are stupid. _You_, however, are neither. I believe you to be what this city needs, even though the people don't know it yet."

There was a certain way in his deliverance, that made me cautious. It seemed too composed and too sensible to come from him. "Well, are you sure that their… _anger_ is something that has been there for quite some time? Don't you think _you_ contributed to some of it, rallying them up at that execution?"

I had worn him out, I could sense it, but he was not the sort of man to give in to anything he did not agree to. "Rallied them up? I simply told them the truth. Seeing someone die under such… turbulent circumstances could be traumatic, indeed it could, but I didn't tell them to do anything. In fact, _they_ told _me_ to kill him. So I did." He leaned back as he casually crossed his arms over his chest. "To be honest, I would have killed him anyway. But that was personal revenge. It was unfortunate, yes, that it had to be done publicly, but I wanted to show them what it would look like, should they decide the others deserved to die as well."

"But how can you put such a decision in _their _hands?" I asked, rather intensely, and turned to him. "Since Lucien left the city, these people have starved and fallen apart! How can you think they would be in _any _position to make the decision of life and death?! What they need is someone who can lead them onto the right path, not push them deeper down their anger and despair!"

"_This_ is why I think you'd do well as Mayor!" he said with a smile, though his brows were furrowed. "_This_ is the spirit you need when standing up on that podium tomorrow! If they could only see _half _of this passion in you, they would be as convinced as I am."

I felt my cheeks blush, and I looked away. My breath was fast, both from the sudden rush of adrenaline and his flattering.

"And don't blush by praise," he continued, "relish in it!"

I said nothing, and kept from looking at him again. The intensity in his expression was too much for me to bear.

"You are stunted by something, Ariana," he then said, his voice now lacking the passion and gaining anxiety. "You've barely made your mark yet, and it surprises me. Do you even _want_ to be Mayor?"

That was the very question I had asked myself all along. Did I really want to be the Mayor of Bowerstone? Last a woman had the position, she was known to be a devious tyrant. I was not certain I could either rule or deserve to rule. I was not even certain I wanted that responsibility.

From my lack of answer, he grunted. "Well, if you don't want to be elected, why are you even participating?"

Sighing deeply, I shook my head. There was no point in denying it, and confessing to the Hero, who was apparently my greatest supporter, that I did not enter for me, would perhaps spare me from a possible win. "It was the condition for Garrett to participate as well."

He huffed, and I should have understood he would not like the answer. "Though I must give the boy some credit for spirit, he is only a very large mouth on a very small body. He would run as fast as his legs would carry him if he were ever faced by a real threat. I know his kind; young, ambitious, clever… but far too green. Reality will dawn on his soon enough, and then he will realise he's in over his head."

"What makes you think I'm not in over my head?" I asked.

He smiled, and I could hint a deviousness behind it. "I have feeling you enjoy being in over your head, Miss Ariana. Only people like you could take such a disadvantage, and grow from it."

I did not reply as I could not read the expression in his face. The steel eyes were locked on mine, and they were almost entrancingly luminous in the settling dark. There was a tension, an intense pull I felt rising from my toes, into my fingers and going straight to my head, that wanted something I could not name. It was slow but steady, as I felt my breathing increase with the beatings of my heart, and while I seemed to be struggling with something hidden, he seemed perfectly at ease as our eyes were staring straight into the soul of the other.

There was a restless movement awakening inside of me, as if I wanted to launch myself at him, and for my life, I could not understand it!

"Perhaps," he suddenly spoke, "we should leave the Cemetery. The dead will soon wake."

I was drawn out of the frightening trance and looked away as I nodded, though stuttering as I spoke, "y-yes, that… might be wise." I felt my cheeks redden violently and I was trembling as I rose.

We walked in silence towards Old Town, and it was not until we were to part we uttered a word.

"Think about what you want, Miss Ariana," said the Hero. "If you don't wish to be Mayor, you shouldn't put yourself in such a position as to risk it. However, should you wish to change this town… you will have my vote."

"Thank you." And with that, we parted, and as I entered the house, I ignored my mother's unbearable curiousness from witnessing me with the Hero, and closed myself inside my chambers.


	14. Chapter XIII

**A/N: **And so, chapter thirteen is finally up! And I am so very tired! It's 1:10 AM over here.. don't know what I'm doing up this late, really! Oh wait..

Anyways.. so, you guys, I know they've done some changes to the FF site recently, and I hope you're not too vexed by it! Some things aren't top notch yet, but I'm sure they will be.

Until then, it's only to read away! :D And remember that I love you all!

Enjoy!

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**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XIII**

I did not come down until dinner. I had been far too busy attempting to figure it all out. I knew neither what to do about the election nor what to do about my conflicting feelings for the Hero. I had also reflected upon what Garrett had told me, and I felt remorse in leaving him as I did. I so dearly wanted to tell him how special he was to me, but I was afraid of what it might make him believe. That I fancied him? Did I? Surely, he was a very handsome and amiable man, young and clever and had a much different view of how a woman should be than most men in Bowerstone. In all logic thinking, Garrett would be the perfect man for me, and even though I had often said to myself that I would never found my one true love, I had to admit that Garrett was rather close. But then, there was the Hero. Now, I would not go as far as admitting any feelings, but a worry had stirred inside of me, the worry of _future _feelings. I could not explain what had happened at the cemetery earlier, but what I felt was something stronger than I had ever felt before. I wanted something, and that wanting was so strong and yet I could not put a name on whatever my need was. All I knew was that it had stirred when the Hero had gazed into my soul. So what was it and would I feel it again? Did I _want _to feel it again?

Mother was inquisitive, as always, and would not rest until she heard what I had been doing with the Hero.

"We met at the Cemetery," said I, for it was not a lie. "We had a brief conversation and we walked back together."

"Is that all?" mother asked, rather disappointedly. "Surely, that could not be all!"

"Let it be, Sarah!" father muttered. "If she claims it was all, it was all!"

"Oh hush!" mother hissed. "You are most insensitive! Now, Ariana dear, tell me about your conversation!"

"Well mama," I sighed, "I'm very sorry to say it, but that was a private conversation."

But mama did not seem disappointed by this. "A private conversation, you say? Oh, I wonder what could have been said in such a conversation!"

Feeling weary, I let her believe whatever she wished to believe. I excused myself after eating very little and went back into my chambers. I amused myself by reading a book until I was certain the others had gone to bed before pulling out Scarlet Rogue's attire and changed into the marked heroine, and tonight, I would be more than happy to be someone else for a moment.

After laying my hair as I wanted it, and after applying paint in my face, I put the mask on, armed myself and headed out into the night. The dark was growing thicker now, with autumn slowly taking hold of the land, and evil becoming more prominent. Winter would also bring the wolves, and judging by the much colder winters we had had for the last few years, I feared autumn would be quite short, thus wolves and Balverines would come closer and closer to the city soon enough.

I headed into the night, taking my usual spot atop the smithy. The air was quite chilly, and I regretted not taking my long trousers on, or my long-sleeved blouse. My skin was prickling for the cold, and soon enough, I would surely be so cold as to become sick again. But I waited. I kept looking about, trying to listen, but the night seemed rather quiet. The town drunks were wobbling back to their houses, and the few people working horribly late were locking up and heading home. Guards patrolled the city, and everything seemed rather serene. I decided I had to move before I started to be so cold, my limbs would go stiff.

I made a quick control of the Cemetery. Hollow Men were walking aimlessly about, but there seemed to be no direct danger as they kept to the graveyard and did not stray. Many times while growing up, I had feared the gate being run over by Hollow Men, and the city being under the attack of the living dead. No such thing had ever happened, of course, but old childhood fears were hard to bury, and I found myself still controlling the strength of the gate and the Undead's behavioural patterns.

What I should have been the most afraid of, though, was a Balverine attack. Having had so harsh winters, Balverines were moving closer every year. They had infested Brightwood and moved as far as Bower Lake. Even Rookridge had seen its fair share of Balverines, and even though such an attack would be highly unlikely, it would be less unlikely the Hollow Men would run down the gates.

But my thoughts had not travelled far until I heard the howl, and my body froze. It was in the distance, and yet is felt so ominously close. The logical, reasonable side of me wanted to run back home, lock all the doors and bar the windows and pray to Avo that the beast would never find its way into the city, but my other side, the more spontaneous and adventurous side, saw it as a chance to prove my strength. I had trained for many years, and to survive a Balverine would be my graduation. And I felt powerful tonight. Perhaps it was the cold keeping me constantly on the move, that made me feel slightly springy, or perhaps it was the conflicting thoughts that had haunted me for the whole day and driven me to completely transform into someone else that made me feel this much power, but whatever it was, it was enough to make me to move my feet in the direction of the howl.

I ran further into the forest separating Rookridge from Bowerstone than I had ever done before, and though I could not make myself stop, I dearly wished to. I came to a halt only when I heard the growl. It was so near, I could almost feel the creature's breath on me. Wondering what in Skorm's name I was doing, I drew my pistol. Should the Balverine attack, I would be faster with my Master Torrent than with my katana. I stood still, hoping the beast would not notice me, as I tried to focus my eyes through the darkness. And then I saw it, the great, black Balverine wandering about only some yards in front of me. It had yet to notice me, and I was struck by the terrifying beauty of the majestic creature. Fur, black as the night, richly gathered along the spine, with those yellow eyes, tall and lean, with the distinguishable claws at the end of its perfectly shaped hand-like paws… oh, it was indeed a beautiful creature. It turned to me, the yellow eyes settling on mine, and I felt entranced, allured. There was a symbolism in the beast I could not deny, a symbol of freedom, of independence, and it called to me.

But the beast cried, a most piercing, furious cry, and I was woken from my hypnotic trance. I stumbled backwards and fell, and I struggled before I again was on my feet. The beast was at my heels, and I could almost feel its claws reaching for me. With a deep breath, I fired behind me, wishing a bullet would hit, and by my third shot, I heard the beast cry again. And then it disappeared. I came to a halt and turned, my heart beating so rapidly, I thought it was about to burst inside my chest. There was something thrilling about being this close to death, something freeing. But now, the beast was gone. I stood silent, listening in on anything, a breath, a heartbeat, but there was nothing.

Feeling slightly disappointed, I readied myself to leave to head back to Bowerstone. I was far into the woods, much further than I had ever been, away from the road. But just as I turned, the great, black Balverine descended in front of me, its unforgiving jaws gaping at me. But before I could do much else than gasp, a massive figure came flying onto the Balverine, knocking the beast to the ground, and I was petrified. The fight unravelling in front of me was so skilled and so brutal, I could barely take my eyes off it. Hearing about how the mighty Hero had torn the head off a Balverine was a most impressive story, but seeing the man fight with such a beast was something entirely different. The opponents were acting so viciously and so furiously, I could hardly distinguish the line between man and beast anymore. There even came a moment where I felt heartbroken for the majestic creature as the Hero drove his massive sword into its belly, and its cries could break me in two.

The Hero triumphed, and the last howl escaped the mighty beast as it lay beaten on the ground. The Hero lingered for a moment, looking at his opponent, and I was just about to speak when I realised I was not Ariana. I was not the woman he cared so deeply for. I was Scarlet Rogue, the woman he had viciously threaten. But as I was just about to slip past him, he turned and his massive stature forced me back. I could still barely distinguish the man from the beast—there was something in his eyes—and for the first time, I truly feared for my life in his company. He took a step towards me, but I raised my pistol, aiming it to his head.

"Don't move," I warned. "A bullet to the head was enough to kill you last time. You might not come back this time."

As if my words struck a chord with him, he slowly backed away, raising his palms. "I won't hurt you, Scarlet."

"Why should I trust you?" My voice was trembling.

"Because this isn't the time," said he, a trace of longing in his voice. He wanted to kill me. He wanted to watch me bleed.

We stood silent for a while, Wolfsblade and I, two rivals in the woods. Had this been a fight to the death between us, it would have been a most unnerving beginning. Keeping the pistol firmly aimed at the man, I slithered past him, and hurried away thought the woods. My speed was reliable—there was no chance the man would successfully catch up with me—and once I was back within the city walls, I had to stop to breathe for a moment. My heart was beating, not only from the exercise, but also from the fear. Had he planned my death? I had known, from the first time I saw him fight, that there was something sinister about the man, something cruel and dark, but I could never imagine that he would plot and plan to murder a woman. But perhaps it was the foolish side of me that wanted to believe that. Perhaps it was the curious side, the side wanting to know more about the Hero, wanting to speak to him again, that wished it not to be true rather than the realistic side of me, knowing it to be true.

Pacing the entrance, back and forth, I realised I could well be seen, and hurried to the back yard of our house, into the shadows, to conclude my thinking. I sat down by the well. I knew neither what to make of this evening nor what to believe. Was I as Scarlet Rogue seeing the true face of the Hero, and if so, how would I make the others see him as well?

Torn by problems, decisions and theories, I rose to walk to the other side of the wall and climb into my room. But as I reached the ledge on the wall, I was pulled back by a great force, and a hand covered my mouth before I could shriek. I tried to make resistance, but my capturer was far too strong. I could tell by the strength whom it was, but I was afraid I might be correct. Was this the right place? Was he to kill me on my own back yard? He turned me to face him and the wall hit my back and I could barely stand on my trembling legs.

Carefully, he removed his hand from my lips. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I could not speak, my fear of him too great.

He seemed angry, but composed. "Did you think I wouldn't recognise the pistol _I _bought you?" When I did not answer, he frowned deeply. "Why, Ariana? Why this?" I could feel how he carefully tugged the mask off my head, and my cheeks were glowing.

I could not look at him, but I did not know why. I had done no wrong. He was the one who had threatened me, so I should not feel like this. But there was something in his voice, something weary, something disappointed.

His rage was sudden, as his hands clasped around my arms and he shook me. "_Why_?!"

"You left!" I squealed. "Bowerstone needed help! The people needed hope!"

He huffed before he clenched his jaw. He stopped shaking me, but was still seeming very vexed. "Don't you realise how dangerous this is? You could have lost your life tonight, Ariana!"

"I've _told_ you I am aware of the risks!" I snapped as I forced him away from me. "I told you that the first time we met like this, remember?"

Still rather sullen, he took a step back. "You're playing a dangerous game, Ariana. There are people out there that want you dead."

"People like you?" I was surprised at my own boldness. Without the mask, I would never dare say such a thing, but it seemed as if the mast did not matter anymore. At least not now, when my true identity had been revealed.

He looked away, though not less vexed. When he looked back, he planted his eyes directly on mine, intensely, burningly. "Don't do this, Ariana."

"You did it all by yourself," said I. Then I smiled. "But perhaps this is for the best. Now, I don't have to hide my true feelings for you any longer. You are a despicable man, Mr Wolfsblade, a demon in disguise. I have tried my very best to be a polite, innocent citizen, but it has weighed heavy on my shoulders, not being able to tell you how ardently I despise and hate you. You are selfish, obnoxious and arrogant, and I am convinced I'm not the only one living a double life. The side you have shown Scarlet Rogue, is by far your most convincing side."

"Are you finished?" His deep snarl almost made the ground beneath my feet shake, but I shook my head defiantly.

"Not quite yet; when we part tonight, it shall be the last time we ever speak privately. I want nothing to do with you, Mr Wolfsblade."

He stood silent for a moment, and I was slightly afraid that he was considering what to do with me. But in time, his face softened, and he bowed his head slightly. "As you wish, Miss Ariana." Then he looked at the mask in his hand. "But this…" Slowly, I watched how he tore it to pieces, and I wanted to stop him, but was afraid of the consequences. "Trust me when I tell you this, Miss Ariana; if I ever seen you like this again, I _shall_ show you a side you've never seen before, a side you do _not_ want to see. This is not a threat, it is a promise. I care for you, a great deal, but if you continue with this ridiculous act, I would much rather kill you myself than see you be ravished and killed by bandits, or torn to pieces by a Balverine."

It was not the demolition of my mask, nor the cruelty of his words, but the honesty in his eyes that frightened me the most. He truly meant what he said, every word of it, and the threat was even more real now than it had been when given to me as Scarlet Rogue.

He then bowed again. "I wish you the best in life, Miss Ariana. Should you ever need it, I am there for you." When he walked away, coldness and a violent trembling spread through me.

Before the tears could come, I climbed through my window. I had never imagined, not even in my wildest dreams, that I would shed so many tears for the Hero as I had, but I was once again overwhelmed by the emotions he could stir in me. Even though I did feel strongly against him, I could not lead myself to believe what I had said about him to be true, and now he would walk through the world, thinking ill of me and all that I was. Perhaps it truly was for the better, though? Now I could stop thinking about the conflicting feelings appearing whenever he came to mind, and I could stop dreading what would happen between the two of us once we met.

But the honest eyes burning through mine were enough to make me regret it all. Perhaps what I had felt earlier that evening, in the Cemetery, had been something I had never considered? Perhaps it had been attraction? A dangerous thought, indeed, but a thought nonetheless. But I had every right, and certainly every reason, to find him attractive. To me as Ariana, he had been very gentle and noble, and not even when he had learnt the truth did he really hurt me.

But I was soon recovered from my moment of doubt. The mentality of the thrill of the chase was a well-known phenomena, and I was not going to let it lead me astray. No, in truth, I was quite glad to finally be rid of the Hero.


	15. Chapter XIV

**A/N: **Thank you all, my dearest readers! Oh my, another late night when I should have gone to bed hours ago. But anything for you! I decided to finish this chapter before going to bed, and here it is! I hope you all will like it! Please, tell me what you think! :)

Enjoy!

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**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XIV**

It was a strange sense of freedom, not having to feel anxious about when our next meeting would occur, mine and the Hero's. The whole day had gone by, and at the time for the speeches, he paid me no particular attention. Though I knew it was only a temporary feeling, that it would pass soon enough, my ego was somewhat hurt. Certainly, he supported me the most, apart from Garrett, and had we not had this quarrel, he might have said something to make more people agree with me. But as it was, the people found be rather obnoxious; how dared a woman, such as young as I, too, walk up on the podium and speak such nonsense? Even the women found me silly, all apart from Mary who found me very brave for what I did.

But I was not the only one having ha difficult time on the podium; Garrett was not the city favourite, and many people found his ideas to be provocative and strange. His knowledge of the world and other cultures seemed to frighten them, and in the en a large man by the name of George received the audience's love and cheers, and the election seemed already settled, even though it was several weeks left. Wolfsblade had been right; they _would_ choose the sturdiest, slowest and most incompetent brute there was. My appearance on the podium now seemed like puny, as if I was to be the laughing stock of the city.

Garrett, however, had not yet lost hope. "They just need to reflect upon what we've said!" he kept saying. "Now that they've had the ideas planted in their heads, they won't be able to stop thinking about it! If I tell you that your way of serving pints is inattentive, you'd be offended. You would go around, telling yourself that you're _not _inattentive, and you would think about it so much, you would eventually realise that you are! Not that you _are _inattentive… that was just an example."

The following days, Garrett and I spent an awful lot of time together, and in the end, it felt as if we had always known each other. All that was really missing was his knowledge of my alter ego, but for the first time in ten years, I had left Scarlet Rogue in the closet, even though I had purchased a new mask. My fear of running into the Hero while being her was far too great. Naturally, I was angry at myself for letting him affect me in such a way, but I could do nothing about it. The honesty in his eyes while delivering the threat was still hovering ominously above me.

The autumn had arrived, and the leaves were falling from the trees, in a haze of flaming gold. The winds had begun raging through the houses, and the chimneys once again spewed pillars of smoke into the air. The woollen coats and the sturdy boots came in handy in weathers like this, and it felt like the election was rushing toward us. Garrett and I had decided to meet by the docks that afternoon, and today, it was the windiest and coldest day so far.

I hurried down when I had finished work, and it was no surprise to me that it was much colder by the water. But I waited patiently for Garrett to return from his last supply run, and when he came back, his nose and cheeks were reddened from the cold. I believe mine were as well.

"What did you want to meet me for?" asked I, much curious for what he had planned.

"I wanted to show you something I found the other day," said Garrett, much secretively. He offered his hand, and I took it. He led me into a small skiff and rowed over to the other side of the channel, turning around the edge of the city wall. There, on the side, was a small ledge and a trap door. It was hidden from insight, and as Garrett stepped onto it to secure the boat, he could barely fit on the small space left while opening the trap door. It hid a staircase leading down into the unknown.

"What is this?" I asked him as he guided me from the boat to the top of the stairs.

"I found it by accident when I was to fetch a boat that had floated away," he said. "It least underneath the channel."

We walked down the staircase, and it was rather dark. I held his hand as he told me frequently to watch my steps. Soon enough, a light seeped into the dark passage, and we descended down through a low arc and ended up in a rather large room that resembled some sort of underground cathedral. I gasped. "This is amazing!"

Garrett nodded as he led me onto the plateau. "You see over there? On the other side? That's a treasure chest, said to hold treasures beyond your wildest dreams. I've never seen one in my life! Legend has it, that only the worthy can open them."

"Well, how do you get across?" I asked and looked about. It was a long fall, and the chest was far away on the other side.

Garrett shook his head. "I don't yet know. I have tried for days! There seems to be some kind of mechanism. Come on, I'll show you!" He then pulled me along and ran down some stairs to the right and then straight ahead, up some stairs and followed the curve to another treasure chest. "I can't open this one. Why don't you try?"

Hesitantly, I tried to open the heavy lock on the chest, but it remained sealed. "I cannot."

Garrett sighed. "Well, we're probably not worthy, then. But come and look!" He pulled be further, and out onto another plateau. This one contained a strange, glowing square. "I've read about things like this; mechanisms from the Old Kingdom, but I don't understand how to set it into motion."

I looked at it for a moment. "Have you tried stepping on it?"

"Yes," Garrett said. "Nothing happens. But come and look. Look across to the other side. There's another glowing square. Can you see it?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"I believe it's connected to the treasure chest," Garrett said. "Perhaps there's a key inside of them, a key to unlock the mechanism? If you look about, you can see that there are more of these parallel ledges. Perhaps they create a passage to that treasure chest on the far side?"

I giggled slightly. "You have spent a lot of time thinking about this, haven't you?"

"Well, of course!" Garrett smiled. "It's an adventure!"

"We're down underground, in Bowerstone!" I chuckled. "There is no danger, no hidden treasure that we can _find_! Really, Garrett, was this all?"

He smirked. "I knew you'd be picky. Come on." Again, he took my hand as he led me around the bend, down the stairs and then we made another right turn. We walked along what seemed to be a corridor, and at the end of it, we climbed over some crumbled rocks into a water filled dome. I stopped in my tracks to gasp. Straight ahead, there was a ledge that was raised above the water, and it was laid with a blanket, and surrounded by lighted candles, and the light from the crystal water rippling around it cast patterns on the stone walls.

"This is… this is beautiful, Garrett! You did this?"

He nodded. "Yes. I wanted it to be special."

I was confused. "What do you want to be special?"

There was a pause after which he leaned into me and planted his lips on mine. I was petrified with surprise and could not move. He was very gentle and very noble as he slowly leaned away and looked into my eyes. "I'm sorry, Ariana, but I have waited for this moment for so long."

I could not speak, but I was not angry with him. Oh no, for I could not deny the pleasing sensation that welled over me by such a gesture. The only worry was what he had planned when lighting all the candles. Had he wished for something more, I was inclined to refuse.

"Please, sit!" he said and offered me his hand as he lowered to sit.

I carefully joined him on the laid blanket and a sudden nervousness spread through me. "Garrett, I… this is very sweet of you, indeed."

He smiled weakly, seemingly as nervous as I. "I just thought you would appreciate the beauty of… of how the light reflects upon the walls, and I thought… oh, well, doesn't matter what I thought. I just wanted to have this quiet moment alone, you and I. Here, we can talk about anything. This is our sanctum, this is our secret place."

I did not know what to answer him, but the idea of having a place where everything would be safe, every secret and every opinion, felt like something beautiful, something I could cherish. "It's absolutely lovely, Garrett."

"Please," he sighed, "forgive me for what I did. I… have wanted to do that since the moment I first laid my eyes on you." He chuckled nervously. "And these last few days have been… very rewarding. I enjoy your company, Ariana. I thought that you might, well, enjoy mine as well."

I chuckled. "Oh, but I _do_, Garrett! I was just so very surprised! You see," I swallowed, "I have never kissed anyone before." I looked away. My cheeks started to glow, and I would not be surprised if the glowing from my cheeks soon enough would reflect upon the walls as well and light the whole room. But that was a rather silly thought, indeed. However, I could still not look him in the eye.

"Is that true?" he chuckled. "I wouldn't have known! You seem like an experienced girl."

"Oh," I chuckled nervously, "I am certainly not! I—there hasn't been anyone in Bowerstone for me, at all. Kissing… has been a rather long way down on my list of priorities."

"Oh, but kissing is nothing to be ashamed off," Garrett said cheerfully. "In fact, in some countries, people greet by kissing. Some rub their noses, some kiss each other's cheeks…" Slowly, he caressed my face with his hand, his voice trailing off, and his touch was soft and gentle. It was comforting and warm, and before I knew it, our lips were once again connected. There were nothing hurried, nothing rushed as we slowly was even more acquainted. Again, I was facing the fact that the more I learnt to know him, the better my opinion of him became.

Kissing was our only advance that night. We stayed for a while, as he told me of different worlds and different cultures, leaving me just slightly more hopeful of the world.

The next day, I was strangely cheerful. Garrett appeared more times than usual in the tavern, and the Hero had gone to Brightwall to sort out some disturbances. It was a sunny day, though the cold, and the golden leaves shone beautifully against the blue sky in the sunlight.

Seemingly nothing could change my wonderful mood, until I stepped into the pantry and noticed Mary, sitting a corner, sobbing silently. I sat down next to her. "Oh dearest, what's the matter?!"

She looked at me, her chocolate eyes flooding with tears. "I—I—oh, it's too horrible to talk of!" She burst into violent cries as she buried her face in her hands.

Horrified and devastated, I embraced the young girl. "Hush, darling, hush. What evil has been done to you?"

Again, she looked up. "It's—it's John! He—oh, Ariana, I can't even speak of it to you!"

The girl was so distressed, I could hardly get one sensible word out of her, so I grabbed her face between my hands and forced her to look at me. "Mary! Mary, look at me! You need to tell me what has happened! Did John hurt you?"

She did not answer as another burst of cries escaped her. "I—I told him no, Ariana! I did! But he—he just kept going, and going, and—oh, Ariana, I feel so tainted!"

Horror welled over me as I realised what poor Mary had been through. "Mary, tell me truthfully; did he force himself upon you?"

"I told him no," she squealed, her body trembling violently. "I told him no…"

It was an anger I had never felt before that settled upon me as I once again embraced the girl and let her cry. John, whom I had found so agreeable, hand turned out to be the worst sort of men, and the pain he had inflicted was unforgivable. The girl trembled in my arms in rhythm with her sobs, and I held her as steady as I could while clenching my jaw tightly.

Suddenly, Patrick peeked into the pantry. "Ariana, there's no one minding—oh, dear Avo… what's the matter?"

"Would you please mind the bar for a little while, Patrick?" I begged. "Mary isn't feeling quite well."

"Of course, darling," Patrick said with a nod as he disappeared from the doorway.

Mary gasped, her cries stuck in her throat. "What if I'm with child?! Oh, please Ariana, you have to help me! It would ruin me!" She once again burst into tears as she lowered her head against my chest, and I held her.

"Hush, girl," I said. "I will sort this out, don't you worry."

I held her for quite a while before she had settled down. I told her to go home and lie down for a while, but she was afraid Wolfsblade would be angry with her for leaving early. I assured her that if the new owner would be angry at her, he would have to answer to me. It seemed to somewhat calm her, and in the end, I had Patrick walk her home.

At the end of my shift, the barmaid for the evening came to take my place behind the bar, and I took on my coat and just before I left, I slipped a knife into my pocket. Mary was often a very naive girl with a tendency of letting herself be charmed by treacherous men, but mostly it was very innocent. However, this was something that I could not forgive or forget. Mary was one of my dearest friends, and I had almost taken her to me as a sister, and I would not let a scum like John get away with such a thing.

The night was dreary as the dark descended upon the city. I waited for him in the shadows, on the way to his house. He was not physically challenging, I had dealt with far greater men than him. I seized my moment when he walked past, and I quickly dragged him into a dark alley with much more force than would ever be expected from a woman my size.

"Wha—Ariana?" He seemed utterly surprised as he looked at me. "What is Skorm's name are you doing?!" He furrowed his black brows as he pulled away from my grip. "Are you insane?"

He started to walk away, but I would not let him and grabbed him by his collar and forcefully pinned him to a wall. Surprise was written all over his face, and it suddenly turned to horror as the shining steel of the knife landed on his throat. "Have you no shame? Mary is a wonderful, young lady, and you had the privilege of holding her affections. But you turned out to be just as nasty as the rest of them."

"What are you ta—"

"Don't pretend, John," I snarled as I pushed the steel against his throat. "You forced yourself on her, did you not?"

"I—you misunderstand, it was all—"

"Did you not?" It was purr, and I was surprised to find so much of Scarlet in me, as if I slowly transformed in the heat of the moment.

"She's a woman," he wheezed.

A devious wish to slit his throat seeped into my mind, but I pushed it away. "If you ever touch Mary again, or even so much as look at her, I will cut off your manhood and feed it to the pigs. Do you understand?"

He nodded, the fear in his eyes strangely satisfying, and I released him and disappeared into the darkness. I dearly hoped he would understand and obey, for I dearly wished I would not be forced to actually execute what I promised.

In the wild thoughts running through my head, I came to think of the Hero, of the way he had threaten me, and there was a streak in me that felt oddly restless when I pictured his face in front of me, almost the same feeling that had tormented me when we spoke in the Cemetery that evening. I did know now what to make of it, but I felt my heart hammer against my ribs, and my cheeks burned. They should not, at least not while thinking of him. They should redden like that when thinking about Garrett, when thinking about his soft lips and his sweet voice. But so far, it was only the Hero that had stirred such girlish behaviour in me, and I could not blame it on anything else than stupid stories one heard of as a child; of knights in shining armour, of Heroes rescuing damsels in distress, and somewhere in my female thinking, I wanted the Hero to be as the Heroes in the stories, but I knew better.

And yet, his face, his voice and his hands remained on my mind for the rest of the evening.


	16. Chapter XV

**A/N: **My dear readers! I hope you're all feeling well! So, I've decided to give you this chapter much earlier than planned, because I'm going away for Easter, and don't know how much time I will have to write. So, consider this as an Easter Egg for you all (without the hidden message, that is!) :) Happy Holidays!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XV**

Mary was a strong girl. Though she was still devastated of what had happened, she kept a steady face, not letting anything break her. Apparently, she had not seen John for two days. She wondered whether or not he was ashamed of what he had done and was working on an apology. When asking her whether or not she would forgive him if an apology was provided, she laughed dearly.

"I would rather bathe in fish every morning for the rest of my life than forgive that bastard," would be her answer, and I would be perfectly content.

He kept away, both from the tavern and from me as I was walking the streets. I believed the fear and surprise still lingered with him, and I could not be else than pleased with my performance. I was even more pleased that I had dared to do all that as myself, as Ariana, to make a statement, to tell him that my friends were under my protection, and I would do anything for them. Scarlet Rogue would have been effective, I had no doubts about that, but would her impression last? She, only being out during the dark hours, would not be able to watch him during the day, but I, Ariana, would. He went by the tavern once, in the search for a person, and our eyes met. I could see that he was frightful, and I gave him the most superior look I could muster, and surprisingly, it was enough to make him leave.

Mary asked me what it was all about, for she had certainly acknowledged the tension between me and John, but I told her it was nothing to worry about.

One afternoon, I sat down with Garrett, away from the hustle and bustle, and enjoyed a simple quiet moment. I had told him about John and what he had done to Mary, and what I had done to defend her, and he had chuckled and admired my strength, thus elevating my confidence to the skies. He was leaning back in the grass, drawing pictures on my back with his fingers, and I was simply looking out over the fields, dreaming of other worlds. Suddenly, I heard him stir as he sat up.

He leaned his chin on my shoulder and sighed. "Aren't you tired of this? Of _Bowerstone_?"

I chuckled. "Why, I've been tired of it my entire life."

"Then let's do something about it!" he said. "Let's go somewhere, just you and I. Let's leave this dreary place and explore the world!"

I furrowed my brows and looked at him. "Garrett, what are you talking about?"

"I talking about freedom," he said. "About not knowing what the horizon will bring us! You said you wanted to see the world, didn't you? Well, we _can_! We can go tonight, no one needs to know!"

I sighed. "Garrett, I have my family here. And Mary, and Patrick, and Alan, and… what about the election?"

He shook his head and huffed. "We won't win that election, Ariana. I mean, look at us! One half mad visionary talking of exotic things that are so different, they are frightening, and one strangely independent woman who dares to rise above most men, and even threaten them like a mad woman! We're too different for them. Our ideas are too evolved. They're going to pick that monkey George as their Mayor, and he's going to run this city to the ground, and they are going to love him for it."

I sighed. Perhaps he was right. But I could not just leave! I had everything here! Most of all, I could not leave my brother. I could not leave him to grow up in such a city without a strong role model.

Garrett seemed to understand I was reluctant. He sighed as I could feel how he embraced me, his head still leaned on my shoulder. "I have to go," he said softly. "I can't stay here."

"Why not?" I turned towards him. "Why do you have to leave?"

"Ariana, I…" He sighed. "I grew up going somewhere. I've never settled for once place longer than a few months. It's not in my nature! I feel like… I feel like Bowerstone has given me all there is to it now. Well, all except you, of course. That's why I want you to come with me!"

I kissed him softly and sighed. "But I cannot go. I am bound here by blood and obligations. I cannot leave."

"So you intend to stay in Bowerstone for the rest of your life, then?" He sounded somewhat disappointed and doubtful. "Settle down and marry? Be the woman everyone in town expects you to be; only the shadow of a man half your brain capacity?"

I pulled away from him. "Don't be cruel, Garrett."

"I'm not cruel," he said, "I am being realistic. There's nothing for you here than misery and injustice! You can't fight a wall by yourself, it won't fall. If you stay here, you are sooner or later going to succumb. Your wish to have children and a family will be too strong, and you will have to settle for much less than you're worth."

I crossed my arms. Perhaps he was telling the truth, perhaps that was my imminent future, but I did not want it to be true. I denied it, with every fibre of my being.

"I didn't want to offend you," he said softly. "I just wanted to save you." He then held me, and I let him. We remained for another hour or so, without speaking much, and then returned to the city. We kissed before we parted, and on my way home, I was plagued by difficult thoughts. Should I go with him? Surely, I did not want to part from him! But I did not want to part with my family, either. My mother, I could do well without. I would even benefit from being away from her for a little while. But father and Aaron? And Mary? Alan and Patrick? And could I really go, abandoning my quest as Scarlet Rogue? Then again, if my fear for the Hero would last, Scarlet Rogue would most certainly cease to exist.

Wandering straight ahead, deep in thought, I was suddenly stopped by a man guarding the passage. "Sorry, miss, but you can't pass through here."

"But, why in Avo's name not?" I raised my brows. I passed through there every day.

"The sewers are flooded," said the man with a shrug. "Walk in by Pete the Shopkeeper, that's the fastest way around."

I sighed and nodded. "Thank you, sir." The way by the Shopkeeper's house was always so very dark, and even though I did not consider myself to be a cowardly person, I tended to keep away from that path. So I hurried. There was no one else there, which I found strange; if the sewers had been flooded, most people heading that way would have been directed to this way, would they not? Slowly, I began to realise this might have been a trick, it was not unusual that young girls were fooled by perverted men. Especially in Old Town. So I stopped and turned to head back, but to my horror, I was faced by the same man that had directed me here.

I gasped by surprise, and backed away, straight into someone else, and as I turned, John stood smirking down on me with another man behind him.

"You thought you could humiliate me like that without paying the price?" he asked. "Petty, insolent whore…"

It was very fast, as I was attacked and dragged into an abandoned house. I fought with all my strength, but three men were too much for me, and they overpowered me easily. It was not much of a discussion before they shoved me to the ground, my knees scraping painfully against the rough wooden floor. One covered my mouth and another held me down as John bent down and tore my dress open and pulled my skirt up.

It was fear and it was rage that made me bite a finger of the man covering my mouth, and once he pulled it away, crying in pain, I seized my chance. I screamed. I screamed for the only one coming to mind, the only one that could save me. I called for Him, and I wished for my life that he, through whatever bond we might still share, would hear me.

And he heard me.

I watched as the beast burst in through the door, the beast of a man who had torn the head off a Balverine, and John and his fellow perpetrators knew there was no chance of their triumph. The battle had already been lost, for the beast was far too great for them to beat, despite their superior number.

His steel eyes burned like cold fire as he stood towering over them, and he needed not say a word before the three young men fled through the window.

I was left on the dirty floor, my dress torn to my bodice and blood seeping from my injured knees. I wished not to cry, but I was entitled to be frightened. I had done what I could to stand up to the injustice done to my friend, and had I been armed here today, the situation would most certainly have ended differently. But I had showed them, that a vengeful woman was a dangerous creature, and John himself had proved his fear by enforcing himself.

The Hero bent before me and offered me his hand. "Are you hurt?" His voice was stern, still angry.

"Not beyond repair," said I, my voice trembling while I accepted his hand. I dried my face with the other as I let him pull me to my feet. "How did you know I was here?"

He did not answer while he covered me with his coat. After a moment, he sighed. "I followed you."

I wished to express my gratitude for this intrusion, but could not. "So you have turned to stalking now, sir?"

There was a crease in his forehead, but he smiled gently. "Even so exposed, you are fierce." He eyed me before he sighed once again. "Mary came to me. She was worried you might have confronted John about something. Of what, she did not tell. She wished me to keep an eye on you, in case something would happen. I saw them follow you, but it seemed innocent enough at first. When they dragged you inside, however, I had to remind myself of how strong you are to not waltz straight in here and wreck their necks. But when you screamed…" His voice trailed off until it fell silent as he reached a hand to my face to carefully caress it with his thumb. I withdrew at his touch, staring him boldly in the eye.

"I don't need your pity, Mr Wolfsblade," said I. "Had I been armed, they would never have—"

"But you weren't armed, Ariana," he said and furrowed his brows, a frustrated vexation staining his voice. "Surely, you must realise what would have happened if I hadn't been here!"

"I need neither your pity nor your help!" I spat.

"Obviously, you do!" he spat back.

"I could have saved myself!" I barked, but there was a tremble in my knees. I knew I was lying, and so did the Hero.

"No, you couldn't!" he barked back, and his hands gripped my arms. "You _couldn't_ Ariana, and had I not been here and heard about this when it was too late, I would have torn their heads clean off!"

"I don't need you!" My voice shattered as I burst into tears. I wanted to express my gratitude, but my pride prevented me from it. "I can manage on—on my own!" He pulled me in, and I let him, and felt his arms embrace me. There was a safety, a sense of protection against the world, standing there in his arms as I cried against his chest. Had he not been there, I would not want to know in what state I would be in at that moment.

Slowly, I felt him pull me away from him as he raised my chin. "I will always look out for you, whether you want it or not."

Drenched by tears, I could feel my cheeks redden. I did not know how to react to his words, for this was certainly not the first time he had saved me. Was it turning into a habit? Would I soon enough owe him something? His eyes were settled on mine, and the hand on his chin left to caress my cheek.

"You're a strong woman, Ariana," he said. "Unfortunately, not many people in this city appreciate such a thing. I just want you to be careful."

I gave a quiet sob. "But… if you're always going to look out for me, I don't have to be careful. Because you will be there."

He chuckled and frowned. "Indeed. But soon enough I might start demanding things in return for precious time."

"Such as?" I knew I should not ask, for I was afraid to hear the answer, but the words escaped my mouth before I could stop them.

He clenched his jaw, a painful expression covering his face as he eyed me intensely. His hand stayed on my cheek, and I could feel his anxiety through it. "You know what I want," he said lowly. "But it's something I can't have, and it's tearing me apart."

My heart fluttered, and there seemed to be some sort of force pulling us closer. "I don't understand," I breathed. "Why do you want me, when you can have everyone else?"

"Because you're not everyone else." His hand on my cheek slid down to my neck, and he pulled me to him, so close I could feel his breath upon my lips. His hold around my neck was forceful, but not hurtful, and his breath was heavy. "I could break you," he said huskily, his voice edging on madness, "with my own two hands… I could take your innocence and make you mine, so easily it's almost ridiculous, and yet you have such power over me…"

Oh, how I wanted to kiss the man, it was pointless to deny that fact now. But I was afraid. I was afraid of myself, afraid of what I might do. It took every ounce of willpower I had to pull away from him, to distance myself from his beating heart, from the stirring beast. "Sir," I breathed, "this is insanity!"

"No, Ariana," he frowned, "it's not! If you don't feel anything between us, tell me now! But if you do… you know this is not insanity."

I did not know how to reply. Though I did not want it, I could not deny the tension, the pull and the strong urge to be with him. I crossed my arms. "You hate what I do! You hate my independence! You threatened to kill me, _twice_!"

"And that still stands!" he bellowed. "You saw what was happening here tonight, didn't you? _Didn't you_?!"

"If you haven't already forgotten it, I was in the middle of it!" I cried. "I was unarmed, Mr Wolfsblade! If I had had my pi—"

"Had you been armed you would have managed, yes I know," he said impatiently. "But you couldn't take on three half grown men without your weapons, and that means you wouldn't be able to fight ten fully grown men _with _them!"

"You don't know that!" I spat.

He sighed. "Ariana, what training have you had? Did anyone ever teach you how to do certain things? Strategic manoeuvres? The weaknesses of the human anatomy? _I _can teach you that. _I _can teach you anything you need!"

"I don't need your help!" I barked and took his coat off from my shoulders and tossed it to him. Holding my torn dress together over my chest, I straightened my spine and strode past him. But I should have known better, for a conversation with Wolfsblade was certainly not over until he said so.

He grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me to him. "Don't walk away from me, Ariana!"

I gasped, not only from the surprisingly forceful pull and the fierceness in his voice, but also from the fact that we once again stood so close, I would merely have to reach up a little more to kiss him.

He looked at me, hunger burning in his eyes, and for a moment, I feared what he had in mind for us, for me, but he then sighed deeply and released my arm from his strong grip. "Go," he said. "Go home. Take care of yourself, I've detained you long enough here."

It took me a moment before I realised what had been said, and I held the torn dress together as I hurried away. Tears escaped my eyes, and I almost fell several times before I reached the house. Mother was not in, thank Avo, and Aaron was playing on the back yard. I hurried to my chambers, and I quickly changed from the torn dress with trembling hands. My petticoat was bloody at the knees, but I just let the new dress slip over the blood, and I hurried to wash my face with cold water, to lessen the swelling of my eyes. I went downstairs, knowing I could not linger in my chambers without suspicion, and I was greeted by mother who had just entered.

"Oh, child, I thought you'd never come home!" she said as she placed a basket of mushrooms onto the table. "Is it that boy you talk so much about? What's his name? Gerard?"

"Garrett," I said. "Yes. We were talking by the fields, and forgot the time."

"Oh." Mother was content. The fact that I was mingling with men was a great relief for her who most certainly had dreaded that I would remain a spinster for my whole life. "He's certainly a nice boy. Handsome, too, I dare say. Not as handsome as the Hero, though…" The last thing was mumbled, though loud enough for me to hear, which the purpose of such a comment naturally would be, and I clenched my jaw. I did not want to be reminded of him, for he was certainly already occupying enough of my thoughts as it was. "He came by earlier today, you know," she then said, and I looked at her.

"What?"

"Yes," mother said, rather matter-of-factly. "It was just a friendly visit. He was very polite, and inquired after my health. I believe he was on his way to the Cemetery, and simply stopped for the sake of politeness. Though, he didn't stop at any other house. I believe we are quite special to him."

I swallowed hard. He made it rather impossible for me to hate him more than necessary, and with the evening's events still fresh in my memory, I was quite convinced there would be a hard, confusing time ahead of me.


	17. Chapter XVI

**A/N: **My dear readers! I thank you for your reviews, your favs and alerts, and I hope you're still pleased with this story! If not, I would dearly like to hear it! :) So, here's chapter sixteen! Hopefully you'll like it! :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XVI**

The morning was dreary. It was raining, and it seemed as if the winter was coming much sooner than we thought. It seemed as if the last leaves had fallen that night, leaving the landscape naked and sorrowful. I was not at all motivated to start working that morning. I feared looking Mary in the eye, I would be ashamed meeting Garrett, and if I were to meet the Hero, I would be tongue-tied.

I was rather careful and alert walking that morning, fearing someone might attack me again, but the way to the tavern was rather eventless. I could breathe again when I hung my coat in the back room, and before I could enter the bar, Mary met me.

"Good morning," she smiled.

I smiled back, though not as enthusiastically as her. "Good morning, Mary."

She seemed wondering, and after a while, she furrowed her brows. "I've been meaning to ask you… I could not fail to see the tense glare you and John shared yesterday. Did you say something to him?"

"Nothing of consequence," said I. "I reminded him that it has been soon a month since the terrible execution. But that is all."

"You didn't… mention anything I told you?" she mumbled.

"No," I lied. "I said nothing at all about you."

"So why the hostile glare?" she persisted.

"Why, I don't know," I shrugged. "Perhaps he fears I know?"

"Perhaps," she mumbled.

Working was slow that day. We had many guests, indeed, people seeking shelter from the cold rain, and a lot asking for some warm ale, another sign of the approaching winter, but it was still so very slow. It felt like torture. Garrett had noticed my dismay, and he was most certainly thinking it to be an effect of the proposal he had given me the day before, and tried to make me less upset. Oh, how I wished it to work, but I could not stop thinking about how easily it had been for John to fool me and drag me inside that house, and I could not stop thinking about Wolfsblade's entrance and how he, with his threatening stance, drove the men away and saved me. I could not stop thinking about the look in his eyes, the ferocity in his voice, as he, though not word to word, said how much he wanted me.

They were the things I simply could not stop thinking about, and it was driving me mad. The great Hero himself was unusually available that day, checking in with the manager he had recently hired, keeping an eye on the tavern, and even though I wished it not to be, keeping an eye on me. I felt his eyes settle on me from time to time, and I had to turn away, I had to hide my blushing cheeks. I had to keep telling myself that I did not feel for the Hero, that Garrett was the man for me, but as the day went by, and the more he looked at me, the more I wanted him to hold me again. The wish was even so strong, I sometimes found myself staring at the man when he was not looking. Several times, I cursed myself for being so weak, so easily tempted.

I did not know if he had noticed my glances and my ever so red cheeks, but for some reason, I still wished him to. I wished him to see me. But I felt such guilt towards Garrett, it was almost unbearable. Had I not said to myself that Garrett was the perfect man for me? So why did I feel like this towards the Hero and not Garrett? Why did I not feel this passion, this longing for Garrett? There was nothing wrong with the man, quite the opposite! There was everything _right_ with Garrett! He was handsome, brave, worldly, intelligent, kind… he was everything I sought in a man. And the Hero was not.

Next time Garrett entered the tavern, I asked him if he was engaged later that evening, which he was not.

"I've been meaning to ask you the same thing," said he. "You've seemed to sad today, I wanted to cheer you up! I know what we can do… let's venture out to Rookridge to pick the last green mushrooms before it's too late! It could be an adventure, too…"

I could not resist his charming smile, and returned it. "Yes, let's."

For the rest of the day, I tried to think only of the wonderful time I would have with Garrett, and how greatly I looked forwards to it. It was almost a success, had it not been for the Hero, who stopped by the bar only to ask for a warm drink, and surprisingly, he came when Mary was not there. As I handed him the goblet of warm ale, I kept my eyes from his, even though I could feel how he observed me intensely. I tried to engage myself as much as possible in the dishes, the order of the plates, the cleanness of the counters… anything to avoid him. But he remained at the bar long after I heard him put the goblet down for the last time.

"Miss Ariana," said he, and it made my heart race. "How are you? You seem somewhat… troubled."

I had to look at him, and I immediately regretted it. Those brooding steel eyes saw straight through me, through my soul. I swallowed. "No, I'm perfectly alright, thank you."

"I would think it to be rather strange if you actually _were_ alright, after yesterday," he murmured over the bar.

"I appreciate your concern," said I, "but you need not to worry. I… I was never in any real danger, thanks to you." I had to look away, for my cheeks were burning up.

"Ariana, you were in danger," he said, "with me as well. I could barely contain myself."

I looked at him, not minding my red cheeks. "But you did. You saved me, and I am forever in your debt."

But he shook his head. "There is no debt, Ariana."

I nodded, my heart hammering uncomfortably against my chest. "Thank you." I once again looked away in a desperate attempt of making him understand I was not in the mood for conversation. In a moment, he understood my wishes and left the bar. I could breathe again.

For the rest of the day I struggled to stay busy. Mary was a great help, indeed, and she kept chatting away about all kinds of things, and could keep an awfully long monologue about the weather alone. She was, in truth, my saviour, for when my workday was over, Garrett came to fetch me away. He was already warmly dressed, and on our way towards Rookridge, we stopped at my house so I could dress a bit warmer.

It was the first time my family met Garrett, and mother was, to say the least, curious.

"Well, Gerard—"

"Garrett," I corrected her.

"Garrett," mother said, "what is your profession?"

Garrett smiled. "I was a sailor, ma'am, but now I've settled with carrying crates around the city."

"Crates, you say?" There was a tone in my mother's voice that told me she was not at all impressed by it. "Well, I suppose we all have to earn our living, no matter the fashion."

"Mama," I muttered. "Be nice." I then looked apologetically at Garrett. "I'll be right back. Don't worry; she won't bite your head off just yet." I left him looking slightly frightened, but I was sure than a man like Garrett would soon enough charm my mother to the point where she could not wait until I was married to him.

I changed into a much warmer dress and put on a pair of thick trousers underneath my skirt, even though mother had forbidden me to ever wear trousers and dresses together, an my woollen socks were a nice compliment to my ensemble. I hurried down to the kitchen, and just as I imagined, Garrett had successively charmed my mother so much, she was bubbling with laughter.

"Well, mother," said I. "I see that you've taken quite a liking to my friend."

"Oh, yes," mother said. "Oh, do come again, Mr Garrett! You will be most welcome!"

"I thank you," said Garrett, much gallantly. "I shall very much like to come here again."

"Well, why don't you come for supper?" mother asked. "Yes, that should be just perfect! What about in two days? Yes, that will give me enough time to take care of the necessary shopping!"

"I would be delighted," Garrett smiled.

Mother looked absolutely thrilled, and before we would be trapped by mother's curiosity, I quickly pulled Garrett along and left the house. Along the way towards Rookridge, we laughed a great deal, and I was truly happy I spent time with someone like Garrett. However, the thought of the Hero shadowing us was firmly planted at the back of my head, and now and again, I turned around to make sure there was no one there. Garrett asked me if something was wrong, but I discarded my behaviour for nervousness for the wolves.

Garrett laughed. "Don't worry, Ariana. They won't attack as long as we're loud and noisy."

I huffed, "then you don't know much about wolves, Garrett."

He shrugged. "Can't say I do. The only wolves I've been acquainted with are sea wolves."

I chuckled a little. "I'm sorry, Garrett, but knowing a sea wolf is not adequate to judge a real wolf."

"Perhaps not," he smiled, "but I still believe that if we keep on laughing, they won't come at us."

"I know wolves to be just the opposite," said I, though I could not suppress a smile.

We never went as far as Rookridge; we decided that the setting dark and the high risk of running into bandits were enough to keep us away. But the woods separating Bowerstone from Rookridge was plentiful of late autumn mushrooms, and when the dark had fallen, we had gathered two filled baskets and were on our way back. We heard the wolves in the distance, and when the lights of the city appeared in the dark, we were both relieved. Inside the city walls, we could breathe again.

"Thank you for this adventure," I whispered to him.

He smiled, and with a swift movement, he had pulled me to him, and he caressed my face carefully. "You are a wonderful person, Ariana. I think Avo blessed the day I first laid my eyes on you…" He pressed his lips softly against mine, and I cupped his face.

Garrett, oh, Garrett… my heart was beating so strongly for the man, I could hardly let him go. But we said good night, and I watched him disappear amongst the houses, towards the Market. I stood for a while, staring after him, hoping he might come back for another kiss. But he did not.

"How adorable," said a tiresome voice behind me, and I gasped as I turned. Out from the shadows, came the Hero. His face was unimpressed and rather emotionless.

"Mr Wolfsblade!" I squeaked. "You startled me! What are you doing, lurking in the shadows?"

"I was waiting for you," said he and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "I understand you've had… quite a night?"

Blood spread to my cheeks as I looked down onto my feet. "We were in the woods," I said, "picking mushrooms."

He huffed. "Mushrooms? Dear Avo, he's worse than I thought."

I cared not for my red cheeks as I threw him a glare. "What do you want, Wolfsblade?" I crossed my arms.

He sighed, his countenance somewhat bored. "I want you to go home and get changed. Put on a pair of trousers—preferably leather, if you have it—a warm tunic and a thick coat. Something you're comfortable moving in. I'll meet you here in twenty minutes. Oh, and bring your weapons."

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. "But I—what—I thought I said I didn't want your help?!"

"I don't care," he shrugged. "You need to practice, Ariana. Especially if you're thinking of running around in the woods every night, _unarmed_, because that boy will certainly not be able to defend you."

Huffing in frustration, I stomped my foot into the ground like a small child. "I won't go with you! You cannot make me!"

"Oh yes, I can," he said matter-of-factly. "I can drag you along right now, if I must. I only thought it polite to give you an opportunity to ready yourself first."

I felt how every breath wanted to escape me quicker and quicker, and the Hero's stern face did not chance. He had decided, without hearing my opinion, and I had no say in it. After another moment of being obstinate, I growled lowly as I strode past him towards the house, "hateful man!"

He chuckled after me, but I did not turn to scold at him. When I came back into the house, mother was just on her way to bed, and first, she scolded me for being so late. I missed supper, and the food was cold. I told her it was quite alright; Garrett and I had brought bread and apples. Then, her curiosity took over, and the questions started to pour out of the woman; how had it been? What did we do? What did I think of the boy? When would we marry? She was most certainly sure Garrett was a much more realistic bachelor for me than Wolfsblade, even though she did comment on his lack of height, his rather slim frame and his somewhat submissive manner. She still favoured the Hero, but that would probably never chance, unless the man himself did her very wrong.

I went to my chambers and changed into the hunting clothes my father had made me, and I did not even bother to wait until they were all asleep before I took my katana and my Master Torrent and climbed out the window.

The Hero was waiting, just as he said he would, and I walked past him without saying a word. I heard him chuckle as he followed. "Do you even know where we're going, young lady?"

"Well," I started with a bored sigh, "if we are going to practice fighting, I suppose we ought to be away for public eye. It wouldn't surprise me if you choose the small field up by old Grebber's farm."

"You've given this a fair share of thought, haven't you?" he asked amusedly.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mr Wolfsblade," I replied. "I was only seeking to proof your predictability, and it seemed as if I was right."

"It's rather amusing," said he, "how you dare to be quite big-mouthed whenever you wield a weapon, but is rather quiet and timid without them."

"Perhaps it's not a good idea to make me a better fighter, then?" I asked, and for the first time, I turned my head to look at him. His smug smirk was spread across his scarred face, and the steel eyes shone almost white in the moonlight. His hand was lazily gripping the tilt of his sword, but we both knew that he did not need his sword to conquer me, if he wished. Perhaps I had done a foolish mistake agreeing on coming with him? Nevertheless, I did not have much of a choice.

"This place will do," said he as he stopped. We were, indeed, on the field by old Grebber's farm. The Hero reached his hand out, and I could see how the blue lines slowly illuminated his body as his hand caught fire, and the blazing flames spread in a wide circle around us.

I gasped. "What are you doing?! Are you mad?"

He chuckled. "There's no need to worry, Ariana. Just… don't step into the flame."

"Well, that very reassuring," said I sarcastically.

He smiled. "Draw your sword. I want to start by you showing me what you can do."

Reluctantly, I pulled my sword out of its sheath, slowly and carefully, while the cling of his massive blade echoed through the silent night. It was a terrifying sight, seeing the big man draw such a big sword, and the knowledge that that specific sword would soon be slashing towards me was not a soothing fact. I did not want to appear frightened, but there were so many possible outcomes of this situation, and the majority were not in my favour.

"Now," said he demandingly, "attack me."

I was confused at first, but then I took a deep breath and lounged at him with my sword brandished highly. I knew I was fast, perhaps even faster than he would imagine, but no matter how many timed I struck my sword against him, he parried each and every one, no matter how fast they came. In the end, I was out of breath, and he did not even appear the least affected.

"You're strong," he said. "I must admit, stronger than I expected you to be. Good movements. But you need to use your whole body, not just your arms. That will tire you eventually, as it did now."

"I know that you—aren't really going to hurt me," I panted. "So I—don't feel threatened."

"A good fighter should be able to fight well, whoever the opponent is, friend or foe," he said. "Even so; time to move on. Straighten up. I didn't bring you here to watch you breathe. Defend yourself!"

There was only a second of doubt, a second of confusion, before I was attacked by the greatest Hero of our time, as he swung his sword heavily towards me. Luckily, my reflexes were next to infallible as I raised my arm in the exact right moment and his blade struck down upon mine with a deafening thunder. The force was enough to knock me to the ground, as a sore and stunt sensation welled up through my arm.

"Get up!" he barked angrily as he circled me, his shoulders ferociously arched.

I hurried to my feet, but I could barely raise the sword with my sore arm. But he gave me no time to recuperate as his blade once more came whistling towards me. I sprung to the side and avoided being hit only by an inch. The heavy sword buried deeply into the ground next to me, but its weight and the resistance of the earth was nothing for the beast as he pulled the sword from deep within the ground and slashed it towards me again. This time, I barely managed to parry, and the vicious hit vibrated through the steel of my katana, into my hand, and the immediate pain was enough to make me release the handle and let the blade fall to the ground.

Gasping, panicking, I fell backwards to the ground, and dragged myself away from the man, but he approached me with bloodlust in his eyes, smoke forming clouds around his head as he breathed. He towered above me like a cruel shadow. I squealed as his hand took a firm grip of my collar and pulled me to my feet, but he did not stop there as he pulled me so far, only the tip of my toes still felt the ground beneath them. "Stop!" I pleaded. "Stop!"

"Do you think a bandit would stop?" he growled viciously. "Or a troll? Or a Balverine?"

"Please?" It was not more than a whisper.

He pulled me closer, and once again, our faces were only inches away from each other. I felt his hot breath on my lips, and even though I felt shamed by the thought, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to finally know what it felt like, and I could feel how he slowly pulled me even closer.

But he grunted impatiently as he shoved me away, almost to the ground. "Go home, Ariana. You're not ready for this yet." A slight movement of his hand caused the flames to disappear. "And you will probably feel this tomorrow, so make sure to stretch."

I wanted to speak, I wanted to ask him what had happened, why we always ended up so abominably close. But looking at his stern face, I could not utter a word, only pick up my sword and wander back home on trembling legs with a swelling ache and a split heart.


	18. Chapter XVII

**A/N: **Everybody; I'm back! :D Thank you all so much for your reviews, your favs and follows! ^^ I am forever grateful! Oh, and I forgot to tell you; on the 25th of March, my brother had a baby boy! :D And guess what? His name is Aaron ;) Fitting, don't you think? Oh well, that was just a little anecdote :)

So, here's chapter seventeen!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XVII**

The Hero was right; I felt it in the morning. It was an excruciating pain, preventing me form being able to walk properly and function as a normal human being. I barely made it down the stairs that morning, and once I had successfully been seated by the table, all eyes were on me.

Mother huffed a laugh. "Well, child, who knew that picking green mushrooms, would be that exhausting?"

A tone in her voice meant that she was indeed indicating something entirely different in that statement. I felt my cheeks burn as I settled my eyes on my breakfast and kept from replying.

"Well, of course," father said, rather loudly. "There's a lot of… well, picking! That's hard work! Dear Avo, woman! You make it sound like she did something else!"

"Like what?" Aaron asked inquisitively.

"Nothing, dear," mother chuckled. "Nothing at all."

"Oh, why do I never get to know what you're talking of?!" the boy cried. "It's not fair!"

"You will have to wait until you get older," mother said and smiled.

I did not want to linger at the house, so I hurried away towards the tavern. Of course, meeting Wolfsblade would be rather embarrassing; the defeat I had to face the night before was humiliating to say the least. I had thought, as said, that I would have a chance against the Hero, but yesterday's events proved me wrong. I would have no chance. I actually though he would hurt me, rape me, perhaps, by the look of him, or even kill me. How would he possibly have stopped that heavy blade as is slashed towards me? Had I not stepped aside in the last moment, that blade would have split me in two. What was running through his mind as he held me by my collar, when his eyes were filled with bloodlust? Did he want to kill me? Violate me? Or perhaps, he only wanted to frighten me?

But when I arrived at the tavern, the humiliation seemed not to be over.

Scarcely a minute after I had settled behind the bar, Wolfsblade himself called for me. He said he had a special assignment for me, and since he was now my superior, I had no choice but to obey. He led me to the cellar, and at first, it worried me. But when we had entered the storage, he pointed at stack of boxes.

"I want you to carry those boxes down to the docks," said he. "It's bottles of beer, they're going to Westcliff."

I stared firstly at the boxes and then at him. "You want _me_ to carry all those boxes? What if I drop them?!"

"Then I'll take it from your salary," he said rather coldly.

"They're too heavy for me!" I cried.

"Lift with your legs," was his only reply. "Walk in short intervals and take plenty of breathers. You have the day, that should be enough time."

I could not understand the meaning of this. "Sir, why are you—"

He turned towards me. "You need to get stronger, Ariana. The way I could so easily overpower you last night… that's a warning."

Huffing and rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms. "You're a _Hero_. You tear heads off Balverines. It would not _matter _how strong I was, you would still beat me!"

"Yes," he said, and he could not hide a subtle smirk, "but perhaps not as easily."

I gave him a glare, the most vicious I could muster, but he seemed untouched by it. "You cannot force me to carry these crates, Mr Wolfsblade."

He shrugged. "Yes, I can. But I have a feeling I won't have to. You'll carry them, by your own free will."

I could not hold back a laughter. "And how exactly do you believe that will happen?"

He smirked at me. "I shall call you a coward."

Feeling offended, I knew that was his design by calling me so, and I would not let it have the best of me. "Call me whatever you'd like, sir, but that shan't motivate me to do things beyond my capacity; I know my limits."

"That obviously didn't hold you back once you decided to play a Hero," said Wolfsblade, his smirk disappearing. Then he raised a brow in a much tediously scornful face. "But, if you persist you cannot do this, I won't force you." He then bent down to lift one of the crates, and I could almost hear the strain of his tough muscles as he straightened with the crate in his hands. "I just thought you were a different girl; not weak, like the others. I guess I was wrong, then."

The offence could not be held back as I gasped. "I am _not_ weak! Hand it over!" I realised he had been playing me from the very beginning the second his smirk reappeared on his lips, but I would not let it defeat me as I braced myself for the heavy crate. Once the Hero handed it over and placed in my arms, I was sure I would drop it, and I tensed, feeling my sore muscles burn, but a relieving support kept the crate in my grasp. The Hero had no yet released the weight as his steel eyes slashed through mine.

"I wouldn't tell you to do this if I didn't believe in you," he said, surprisingly softly.

I was taken aback. His intense eyes were alluring, as if they were pulling me in, trapping me. I quickly shook my head. Too many times. Too many times had I been transfixed by his gaze, and it had started to play out rather viciously to my heart. It was growing weaker, and soon enough I would be completely taken by the Hero. Soon enough, I would have no more strength to fight him. If he could only be with another woman, if I could just see his true nature one more time, I might be once again motivated to keep on despising him. But for weeks on end, I had not seen him with another woman—not one!—and all his attention seemed to be focused on me. I sighed. "I can do it. You can let go."

Slowly, he lowered his hand, and I felt how the crate became heavier and heavier, and when he had finally removed all support, I was carrying the crate by myself, but it would be a lie to claim it to be rather light. He smiled. "Holding it is step number one. Walking up the stairs is a whole new challenge."

I felt my arms tremble; they were still terribly sore after yesterday's training, and I did not know how long I would be able to hold the crate. I took a step, and the strain in my body was so violent, I did not know how I would possibly make it up the stairs in one piece, let alone the crate. My breath was ragged and when I took my first step, I felt the wooden crate slip from my hold. So I quickened, in fast but short steps, but the crate kept sliding. In the end, I had to stop and try to take a new grip, but I could not. Just as the crate was about to slide from my grip entirely, the Hero caught it and took it from me. "No!" I cried. "I can do it! Give it back!"

"Perhaps you were right," was his only reply, "perhaps you aren't strong enough."

I felt cheated, and I felt betrayed and humiliated. "Why do you always _do _this?! Why do you always seek to embarrass me? To _humiliate_ me?!"

He furrowed his brows. "Humiliate you? How so?"

"How so?! You _force _me to fight you, and when I lose, as you knew I would, you tell me I'm not ready! Then, you force me to carry these crates, only to later state I'm not ready for that, either! I'm starting to believe you're doing this for your own amusement, Mr Wolfsblade!"

He only smiled. "And I'm starting to believe you're this upset only because you're disappointed in yourself. I'm giving you these tasks to test your limits, and they are beyond what you can do, just as you said, yourself."

I wanted to shout at him, tell him that he was wrong. It was all his fault, not mine. I was not to blame! I tightened my fists and fought the moist in my eyes, but I had not the courage to actually scold him as I dearly wished to, afraid my voice would break. I had already shed tears in front of this man, and I did not want to do it again. So I stormed past him, but as so many times before, he did not allow me to leave before he had declared the conversation to be officially over. He seized my arm and pulled me back.

"Ariana, don't be upset!" he pleaded, though his face did not tell of a plea, but a demand. "I'm not seeking to humiliate you; I know you're strong, stronger than girls your age should be. But you are not suited for the sorts of activities you've busied yourself with the past years. You still lack some of the strength and skill you need to survive." His intense glare was enough to keep me petrified, and every word he said sank into my head, my skin, like poison. "Give me your time, and I promise you, that Scarlet Rogue will be name that will appear in history books."

"I thought you didn't like Scarlet Rogue?" I spat at him.

"I don't," he shrugged, "she's competition."

"Then why would you make your competition better?" My voice trembled, but I did not care.

He stared at me, intensely and dangerously, before he spoke huskily, "I have my reasons."

"Such as?" Why did I always have to ask? Why was I such an inquisitive a person? Why could I not settle with such an ambiguous answer?

But his face turned sour, in an angry scowl, and he huffed. "Are you mocking me?"

At first, I was confused. Why would such an innocent question be mocking him? "No! I just want to know! Why do you want to train me?!"

He tightened his brows. "You haven't been listening to me at all, have you? I don't want you to get hurt! And, since I obviously can't make you _stop_ being Scarlet Rogue, it means I'll have to _teach _you how to survive!"

"You don't have to teach me anything," I mumbled as I crossed my arms.

"I don't fully agree," he growled lowly. "Now, get back to work. I'm losing money because of you. And meet me on the field by midnight."

"I thought you said I wasn't ready?" said I as I boldly raised a brow.

"Not for close combat, you not," he replied. "We'll practice shooting."

I huffed a laughter. "Well, that will be a damn tedious waste of a night; I know how to shoot, you know I do."

He tipped his head to the side, a sly smirk spreading across his face while he was eyeing me, his steel orbs still cruelly daunting. "Of course… and what would you rather have us do, then, in the middle of the night, just you and I?"

His voice, his smirk and his darkened eyes frightened me as his words slowly settled in my head; what was the meaning of it? Surely, he did not suggest such an abominable thing as—no… but his eyes told me otherwise, and I stumbled backward. "Sir, I… I have to get back to work." Rushing to the stairs, I was dreading he would stop me again, and my heart hammered so violently against my ribs, it almost hurt, but he did not attempt to stop me.

I rushed upstairs. Mary greeted me by the bar.

"Why, Ariana! You look awful! So pale! Pray, what's happened?" she gasped as I had settled down.

"It's nothing, I can assure you," said I, though I knew my voice was betraying me.

"Well, I've never seen you this pale, Ariana," Mary continued. "Are you sure you feel alright? Why don't you sit down for a while?"

"I don't need to sit down!" I spat. "I'm perfectly fine!"

"I'm sorry," Mary muttered. "I didn't know you would take it as an _insult._"

I sighed. "No, I didn't, I'm sorry. I'm just under a lot of pressure at the time."

Mary seemed not quite content, but did not question me further on the subject. Instead, she gave me one of her bright smiles. "Ariana, are you busy this afternoon?"

"No, not that I know of," I answered her. "Why?"

"Well, I just thought," Mary started, "that it has been quite some time since we had a proper talk, you and I. And to be quite honest, I think we could need it. I think both of us have a lot on our chests."

I was hesitant at first. Was it so obvious I was troubled? How much would I be forced to tell her? Mary was my best friend, after all, so keeping all of this from her would certainly make me a rather bad friend. But was it her right to know? Her begging, brown eyes, almost the eyes of a small puppy, pleaded me to accept the offer, and in the end, I could not refuse. "Yes, that would be lovely. Things have happened, a lot of pressure… I could really use a friend."

Mary's smile grew wider. "Excellent! Oh, and let's bring some pie and hot beverage to the Watchtower, like in the old days!"

I could not hold back a smile and I nodded. "Yes, let's."

Mary was then content and we both returned to work. There were not many people in the tavern, at all, but the few guests we had were demanding enough. Garrett's visit was a relief, and his broad smile a comfort.

"Good day, my fair lady," said he as he leaned against the bar.

I smiled at him. "What got you in such a good mood, my good sir?"

He shrugged. "Well, I don't know. The sun is shining, which it hasn't been doing for quite some time. I nicked a bottle of wine from the cargo, and a pretty girl stands before me, with brilliant, green eyes."

I could not help but blush at such flattering. "Thank you, Garrett."

"So, what do you say?" he continued. "Would you like to share a cup with me tonight?"

It was a sweet proposal, I had to admit that, and in all honesty, I was a bit disappointed that I had already promised myself for Mary, for I could barely resist those blue, alluring eyes of his. "I'm sorry, Garrett. I promised to make time for Mary."

He nodded understandingly. "Of course. You haven't spent much time with her lately, it is only natural. Friends are forever."

His words moved me, and I gently put my hand on his. "You are a wonderful man, Garrett, did you know that?"

He chuckled. "I try my best."

I wanted to kiss him, but to do so in the middle of the tavern would seem rather reckless. I was convinced people knew about our romance, but it would be quite silly of me to flaunt it to the crowd. But he kissed my hand goodbye before he left the tavern.

The remaining hours were tedious. The Hero walked past me several times, and each time, he glanced at me, with his piercing, steel eyes, so intensely, the hair at the back of my neck was standing. It was a relief, when Mary finally came to fetch me after our day's work. We packed a basket with pie and warm ale, and left the midst of the city for the abandoned Watchtower down by the docks.

We sat down on the blanket we had brought and made ourselves comfortable. Mary spoke about gossip and other meaningless things as we helped ourselves with pie and drank greedily from the warm ale, for even though the sun was shining, the cold was still biting.

"And did you see Jennie, you know, the baker's daughter?" Mary gasped. "Oh, she was just plain _ugly_ last night! I cannot _believe_ you never saw that hideous, yellow dress of hers!"

"Mary, don't be mean," I chuckled. "I bet she liked it, and in the end, that's all that matters, is it not?"

"Well, she ought to know that bigger girls do not suit in yellow," Mary persisted. "Oh well. Now, tell me, are the rumours true? Are you and Garrett truly and item?"

I sighed heavily. "Well… yes. I suppose we are."

"You _suppose_?" Mary chuckled. "Dearest, you ought to _know_!"

"Well, alright!" said I as I rolled my eyes. "Yes, we are an item."

After listening to another of my sighs, though, Mary was still doubtful. "But…? I know there will be 'but' there, as well. Come now, Ariana, you can tell me!"

I looked at her—or perhaps it was more of a glare—and then I sighed once more. "Mary, if I tell you something, could you promise me not to tell a single soul?"

Mary nodded, and then she gasped. "Oh, by the grace of Avo; you have been with the Hero!"

"No!" I hurried to say. "No, I have _not_! Well… at least, I haven't yet."

Mary gasped again. "But you intend to?!"

"_No_!" I cried. "It's just… well, he's _there_, all the time! I can't do anything without having his eyes on me! It's frustrating, Mary!"

"Oh, yes," Mary nodded. "I know exactly what you're talking about. Every girl in town talks about it. They have practically lost hope of ever bedding him now, since you've snared him in as you have."

"I have _not_," I spat. "I… I just don't know how to get rid of him!"

"Do you _want_ to be rid of him?" Mary asked, and I suddenly found myself unable to answer.

"I—I…" was the only thing that came out of my mouth, and then I sighed deeply. "I don't know. Sometimes, I wish him gone, as far away from me as possible, but sometimes… sometimes, I don't want to part from him. Oh Mary, what am I to do?"

For the first time, Mary was silent. She looked at me with great worry in her eyes, and then she slowly took my hands in hers. "Ariana, you must follow you heart, but please; do not forget your head! I… might have voted for the Hero, had it not been for John. I have seen how Mr Wolfsblade looks at you, Ariana, and even though I doubt he would ever use violence to have you, we mustn't forget his strength. You are a strong woman, probably the strongest I know, but you would never be able to fight him, should he decide to take you against your will. Garrett, however… Ariana, promise me you will use your head alongside your heart!"

My heart stopped. The sadness looming over my dearest friend, became my own. The ordeal with John had changed her, as it would to any person. But to Mary… oh, the effects were almost terrifying; she once so joyful and youthful Mary had changed into someone with an even more cynical view of men than me!

I reached out for her and pulled her into an embrace. "I promise."


	19. Chapter XVIII

**A/N: **And here we are again... I honestly didn't think I'd get this far! (No worries though..) But, as I've said before; this is just too much fun to write! :) Anyways, here's chapter eighteen, I hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XVIII **

Later that evening, when Mary and I had parted, and supper had been eaten, father came to me, with his brows tightly furrowed. He asked me to come with him to the sitting room, where the fire was burning, and father's goblet of mulled wine stood on the small table next to his chair.

"Come, child," he said and led me to the chair next to him.

I sat down, though not without my suspicions. Papa rarely took time for conversations like these.

"My dear," he begun, "I have barely had the time to speak to you," then he laughed, "for the past three years, it seems!" He chuckled while polishing his glasses with a fine cloth. "My child, you have outgrown me. I must have looked away, only for a moment, because you've grown to be a woman, and I cannot for my life remember when that happened!"

I smiled and placed my hand on his arm. "Papa, I'll always be your little girl, you know that."

"Yes, I do," he smiled back. But then he sighed. "That is why I wanted to speak to you. You see, you mother has been going on and on about this boy, this… Garrett. She thinks you are an item. Is this true?"

I swallowed. "I don't know yet, father. But it might be possible, that in the near future… well, that we will be an item, yes."

He nodded, deep it thought, it seemed. "And has this boy been good to you?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Quite so."

Again, he nodded. "Has he been… gallant? Has he… kept his paws away, to put it boldly?"

I chuckled. "Yes, father, he has. I assure you, that we have been perfectly honourable. We haven't done anything that could not be done in public, I swear it by Avo."

Father furrowed his brows. "Hm… not even in the woods? Yesterday?"

"No!" I chuckled. "Dearest papa! I think mama has gotten into your head!"

Father laughed, "no, indeed she hasn't!" Then he gave me a smile. "But I'm glad to know you're a good girl. I would not want you so end up like Nelly, you know."

At once, my smile disappeared. Considering the events of late, that fate would not have been so far away. "No, papa. I promise you."

"You're a good girl, Ariana," he said as he rose from his chair and kissed my forehead. "Good night."

"Good night, father." The man left the room, and I stared into the burning fire. It had been quite some time since I gave poor Nelly a thought. Had she been allowed to keep her child, it would have been twelve years old by now. The child would most certainly have been a playmate of Aaron's, and perhaps, that little boy or girl would have played inside this house, and the child's laughter would have filled the streets of Old Town. But now, that voice was missing. There was not even an echo after it. The child had never been, only the promise of it. And it was all because of the so celebrated Hero.

Perhaps he had been young and reckless, perhaps he had been frightened when learning to know he was to father a child. Perhaps he thought he did her a favour, saving such a young girl from motherhood. But the girl had been cursed by it. For ten years, I had not seen Nelly with a man. I had barely seen her amongst people. She was still living with her mother, long after her older sisters had married and her younger brother had moved out. When I was a child, I remembered her being so jolly, so cheerful, and I remembered how the boys often chased her, and for good reason, too; Nelly had the prettiest smile in all of Old Town. But now, she was a lonely spinster, locked away by shame and sadness.

The Hero had _not _done the girl a favour, and I doubted he had had anything else but himself in mind when he demanded her to be rid of the child.

Angered and upset, I left the sitting room for my own chambers. I would not go to the fields at midnight. I would not give him the pleasure of seeing how I obeyed his orders. I would do as I always did at nights, and I would do it as I always did, before the Hero came back from the Spire.

It had taken me quite some time to finish Scarlet Rogue's winter attire, and I had had to freeze many nights before I learned what to wear and what not to wear. For now, this would suffice, but come winter, I would most certainly have to return to the drawing board and perfect my costume, as I did every year.

When I was dressed and finished, I made sure they were all sleeping before I climbed out of the window. It felt wonderful being engulfed by the darkness again, masked and armed, as if I had been set free from a pair of chains I did not know I had. I did not even fear the Hero finding me like this. Perhaps—and most likely—I was a fool not fearing the Hero's promise, but I could not. There were too much scorn in me, too much hatred for the man. I almost _wished _he would see me this defiant. Perhaps I could have him scold me, or even abuse me, in front of everybody else. That would most certainly make them change their minds!

But my brutal fantasies were only fantasies. I knew the Hero would never hurt me while others watched, and if so, it would not matter, because then he would kill them all. Heroes before him and gone mad and slaughtered entire cities. The phenomenon was not new, but far from it. History was filled with powerful people going mad because of their power. Wolfsblade would be no different.

I kept to the rooftops, as usual, as I with ease moved through the darkness. Nothing spectacular happened, but it did not matter. It was the feeling of once again sitting on top of the smithy, feeling the night breezes in my face, and knowing that the people of Bowerstone went to bed with the knowledge that their masked Heroine would be where I was, and watch over them.

When I went home that night, I felt pleased with myself. I did not let the Hero's tyranny rule me, and I did as my heart told me to. But as I lay down beneath the covers, I started thinking about all that I had felt towards the man the past weeks. I had had my moments of weakness, when I had been sure he would win, when I almost wanted him to. But I had remained strong enough to keep from throwing myself into his arms, and for that, I was glad. The day I would lose the fight, was the day I would lose myself, and be past the point of no return, and the worst of it all, was that I did not know how long I would be able to fight him. Sure enough I had my moments, as I had had earlier that night, when I remembered why I hated him so, and why I would never be able to live with myself if I let myself fall under his spell. But lately, those moments had been few, and it was as if he had me in a rope; I was pulling, with all my might, to keep away from him, and it had been successful, but my strength was giving way. He was stronger than me, and that was a fact.

All of a sudden, I found myself wondering what he had done when he realised I would not come to the fields. Had he waited, and if so, then for how long? Had he graciously accepted the fact that I would not be there and simply left? Had he been angry and perhaps gone as far as hurting someone? Perhaps he had gone into the woods, to find some innocent creature to kill. Or, perhaps I was giving myself too much credit. Perhaps his only regret was that he had wasted his time on me. I could not imagine him sad because I did not come. No, I was not ever sure he _could _be sad. It would be more logical if he had lost that ability somewhere along the line. At the Spire, most certainly. Not even when he talked of how his beloved dog had been taken from him by Lord Lucien, did he shed a tear. Instead, there was anger in his face, and bloodlust, and I had at the time—perhaps naively—through it to be grief. But Wolfsblade did not grieve. He did not cry. He killed.

A shiver ran through me as the thought was rooted in my mind. Perhaps I had been foolish to defy him? I feared him, even though I knew that the best way to make him understand he could not rule me, was to prove to him how fearless of him I truly was.

But I was not.

Only a fool would be fearless. I was not afraid of being beaten, nor was I afraid of dying. I had been bruised many times in battle, and death was hovering over us all, and especially those who went out seeking it, like I did. No, I feared all the other things he could do. It had happened far too many times to women unable to defend themselves, and it would most certainly happen again. Some women might even wish they would be blessed with a quick death, instead of the torture that awaited them. But was the Hero that vicious? Would he do such things to me, if I defied him again? Would he torture me? The things Mary had said to me returned.

_You are a strong woman, probably the strongest I know, but you would never be able to fight him, should he decide to take you against your will._

She was perfectly right. I would stand no chance against his rage. Mary had been a victim of such cruelty herself, and knew about it better than I did. I thought about what she had said, about the way the Hero looked at me, and then I thought of the words he had said to me in the cellar, the look he had given me, the twisted smirk on his lips… perhaps he did not mean it. Perhaps he only meant to frighten me. But, if not? What if he had been perfectly serious?

The thoughts kept me awake. They kept me worried. I did not want to think about all the things that could happen, because that would do me no good. Several times, I had to whisper to myself, "he won't hurt me," only so that I could relax for a moment before another horrible thought filled my mind. At sunrise, I had not slept one minute.

At breakfast, mother commented my small appetite. "Are you feeling ill again, dear?"

"No," said I. "I feel fine. I had trouble sleeping, that's all."

"Well, you should have taken some hot water with Valerian drops, then!" mother cried. "Cost me a fortune to get those, but they certainly do work!"

"Mama, I'm fine!" I cried. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all."

"Well, you'd better be brisk tonight!" mother said. "That boy Gerard—"

"Garrett!"

"Alright then; Garrett! That boy Garrett is coming here for supper, remember?" Mother straightened as she took a bite from her cold ham. "Venison was my plan, that will be generous enough."

I clenched my jaw. I had almost forgotten about the plans we had made with Garrett! But his company would surely calm me, and I would have a valid excuse to keep away from Wolfsblade.

The rain was pouring down as I headed towards the tavern. The roads were muddy, and the hem of my skirt was covered with dirt and mud, as well as my boots. When I arrived at the tavern, I was cold and wet and was in no mood, whatsoever, to work. Mary was beaming, as usual, and made me a cup of warm milk. This was one of those days the tavern was filled. No one wanted to be out in this weather, and thought it would be the perfect time to have a pint or two.

I, on the other hand, wished them all away.

My mood did not change for the better when the Hero arrived, water pouring from his Highwayman hat, and dripping from his coat. He hung it off, and his wet hair lay smeared across his forehead. There was blood on his shirt; he had been in a fight. And he seemed rather annoyed. Walking up to the bar, he ordered Mary to give him a pint of ale. The quickly obeyed him, and then hurried away to pick empty cups form the tables.

Wolfsblade caught my eye, and I quickly looked away. But he would not leave me be. "Miss Ariana," he started, his voice not at all as polite as it used to be. "I understand you were very busy last night."

Swallowing hard, I tried to occupy myself with something. "Yes, quite so."

"With what, if I may ask?" Though I did not look, I could hear him lean over the bar, his voice purring uncomfortably.

"I… helped my father," I lied. "And when I had helped him, I felt tired, and when to bed."

"Is that so?" He did not believe me.

"Yes." I dared not to look at him, and tried to keep my voice as steady as I possibly could.

"You're a poor liar, Ariana." He left the bar, but walked around it, towards me. "Why didn't you come? It wasn't an invitation, you know."

"So, it was forced of me, then?" I turned to face him, but I knew my countenance would give my fear away.

He did not look very happy, but he did not seem furious. He walked in behind the bar and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "If that's how you like to look at it, then yes."

"So how am I supposed to look at it?" I felt an anger rising inside of me, but both of us knew this was neither the place nor the time for an argument.

"As a precaution for your own safety," said he and pierced his eyes through mine.

Huffing, I turned from him. "Mr Wolfsblade, I am rather reluctant to believe that you care so much about my safety that you force me to do things against my will!"

"Is it against you will?" His voice turned soft, and his question took me by surprise.

I did not know what to answer him. Was it against my will? Sure enough, I had been against it ever since he suggested it, but was I against it because I did not want it, or because _he_ was the one to suggest it? As for the moment, I could not decide. "Sir, you are delaying my work. You do not want to lose any more money on me, now do you?"

He sighed deeply. "Ariana, I don't wish to quarrel. Meet me by the fields at midnight and let's sort this out."

"I can't," I stated, for it was true. I had a valid reason.

"Why not?" His voice remained soft, and it almost made it impossible for me to be rude to him.

"I'm meeting Garrett tonight," said I as I turned back to him.

At first, I thought I could see a trace of surprise, and even jealousy in his face, but then his mouth twisted into a smirk. "Aye, the _boy_… make sure to stay indoors, though. It would be a tremendous hit on the poor lad's confidence if a _girl _had to protect him from wolves and Hobbes."

"He doesn't mind," I retorted. "He's neither proud nor narrow-minded. He's from Oakfield, you see, where Sister Hannah casts a rather big shadow over the people."

"Well, Hammer is a big woman," Wolfsblade said. "And she's a _Hero_, if you haven't—"

"Mr Wolfsblade! Sir!" Brandon the Shopkeeper, the old man minding Fiction Burns Bookstore, came running into the tavern, his white beard smeared with mud. Had he been bathing in the mud? "You've got to come quick! They're killing each other out there!"

The Hero furrowed his brows and looked at the man while he seemed to be trying to understand what was happening, and then he sighed deeply and followed the old man.

I, with my incurable curiosity, followed as well, out into the rain. There was a big brawl behind the bookshop. Brandon said he had heard them through the window of his shop, and when he had tried to stop the fighting, he had nearly being struck down, himself.

There were two men fighting vigorously. They had beaten each other bloody, and showed no signs of stopping. This was a fight of life and death. Wolfsblade had noticed that I followed them as well, and first thing he did was to once again cross his arms and look at me.

"How is it going with that election, Miss Ariana?" he asked, smirking. "It's people like these two gentlemen that will be your people, you know. So, if you were the Mayor, how would you solve this?"

I knew exactly how to solve such a mess; I had taken care of brawling men at the tavern for years. So I boldly raised my eyebrows at the Hero and went to fetch some ice cold water from the nearest well. The rain could be pouring down, if it so pleased; the fighting men would surely feel the difference between cold rain and a cold wave of heavy water from a large bucket. I returned shortly a minute after, and Wolfsblade was leaning against the wall, still unnoticed by the brawling men, and seemed rather amused. Brandon stood a few steps behind, looking much worried.

I shook my head and sighed as I heaved the water over them, and the two men tore away from each other with icy cries, as if they were dogs. They looked at me, and one of the men, whose face had been so distorted, I could not recognise him, took a threatening step towards me.

"You little cunt," he hissed. "Come 'ere, an' I'm gonna shove tha' bucket—"

"Oh, yes, shove it wherever you want," I sighed. "Go home to your wives, instead of fighting like this in a back alley! You're acting like children!"

"Aye, I can fuck in a back alley, too, if tha's wha' you want, you little—"

"Mr Wolfsblade!" The other man had suddenly noticed the Hero standing against the wall, and the man threatening me fell silent and spun around.

"Oh, by all means," said Wolfsblade with a wide smile as he raised his palms, "don't stop! This is entertainment at its best! I'm only waiting for the young lady to slap you both silly for offending her so." His face changed at the last sentence, from amused to threatening, and I could not help but to feel pleased. He was defending my honour. Or, at least pointing out the insolence done towards a young woman. The two men looked terrified, but the Hero made no attempt to frighten them further. He only stood leaning against the house, his arms crossed, and stared coldly at them. Then he turned his eyes on me. "My lady, what will be their punishment for their insolence?"

I tried to think of something rather witty, but my mind was somewhere else. It was focusing on the steel eyes observing me so intensely. But I finally shook my head. "No punishment, sir. The shame will suffice."

He smiled at me, proudly, before he turned to the two men. "You hear that? She was merciful. Those are always the most dangerous. You wouldn't want that one as your enemy. Now go. I can't stand the sight of you."

The two men hurried away, bruised and battered, and the old man Brandon returned to his shop. I stood looking at the Hero. "Thank you. For… believing I could handle myself."

"I know you can," he said, "against drunkards like them…"

I swallowed and clenched my jaw. Perhaps he was right. "I'll come to the fields at midnight. We need to sort things out."

He nodded. "Indeed we do."


	20. Chapter XIX

**A/N: **Woohoo! Another chapter done and ready! ;) And yay for weekends! :D I love it..

So, anyhow.. I'm closing in on twenty chapters soon, and as far as I'm concerned, I might as well do another twenty chapters! It could even be the double! I don't know! All I know is that (oh my, I say this every time!) THIS IS SO FUN TO WRITE! :) Even better is the fact that people, YOU!, are reading it and liking it! :D If it makes you happy, that makes me happy! ^^

So, without further ado, here's chapter nineteen!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XIX**

Mother had truly outdone herself with the dinner. The venison was beautifully cooked, together with sweet potatoes and thick, warm gravy. It was the perfect meal for such a cold late autumn's evening, and Garrett seemed to enjoy it very much. He had been the light of the party, telling stories of his days at the sea, and even father seemed to be pleased with my choice of company.

It truly was a remarkable evening, one I would late forget, and for the first time, while looking upon Garrett while they discussed different ships with my father, I felt a slight tingle in my belly, and a silly smile spread across my face. I could marry this man. I could choose this man to be my husband, and I would know that father would consent, and so would my mother. Aaron adored Garrett, and Garrett himself seemed to be rather comfortable in the company of my family. He looked at me, and his blue eyes came with promises, promises of happiness and a prosperous future.

I did not want him to leave.

But when the night had come to its end, he had to. It was evident that neither mother nor father truly wanted him to leave, but it would certainly be improper for us all to stay up all night, drinking wine and laughing away when we all had to work the day after.

I walked with him through Old Town, and just before we reached the Market, we stopped. The rain had long stopped and left the night sky clear and starry, and the air cold, almost freezing.

"Are you certain it's quite alright for you to walk home alone, now?" he asked while taking my hands in his.

I chuckled. "Yes, quite so."

He still seemed worried. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

"It won't, I promise," I whispered to him. We looked at each other for a moment before the same need seemed to rush through us both as we met in a kiss. Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was the tingling in my belly, but I boldly deepened the kiss, taking it to another level. He seemed stunned and did not respond at once. I had to pull away, afraid that he might not have liked my initiative. "I'm sorry," I hurried to say, my cheeks blushing violently, but he only chuckled and shook his head.

"Don't be," he said. "I'm not angry with you. I just wasn't ready for that."

Feeling slightly ashamed, I looked away from his eyes and stared into his chest. "I shouldn't have done it."

"Nonsense!" he said and brought his hand to my chin and raised it. He looked into my eyes with a smile. "You're a bold lady, Ariana. And that's what I like about you. You're such a fresh wind in this henhouse!" And with that, he leaned in to kiss me again, just as passionately I had kissed him. But he was still gentle, still Garrett.

We laughed against each other's lips before we parted, and he kissed my hand before he disappeared into an alleyway. I turned back home, with a silly smile across my face. Was this love? Was this that wonderful thing I had read so much about in great novels? No matter, this was a wonderful feeling I never wanted to forget. My head was anywhere but at the road as I walked back to my house, and again and again I let my fingers trace my lips, plump after the kiss, in the attempts of somehow catching his kiss, keeping it with me always. Suddenly, he seemed like a phantom, a fragment of my imagination. He was far too good to be true; a man I respected, a man that respected _me_, a man that respected my family and that received my family's respect as well… it was all too good to be true.

Once I stepped inside, mother stood waiting for me in the kitchen, dressed in her nightgown. "Oh, such a lovely, young man, Ariana. He's truly something. He's a keeper!"

I chuckled. "He's perfect, is he not? Oh, mama, I never thought I'd ever find someone like him!"

"Come now, child," mother said soothingly. "You're a beautiful, young woman. Any man would be lucky to have you! There is not one girl in this city with your copper hair and moss eyes, and neither is there _one _girl in this city with your wit and intelligence! Garrett seems to appreciate all that you are, and if he loves you for it, we shall love him for that."

"Thank you mama," I smiled and embraced my mother before we said goodnight and went parted ways. I went to my chambers, and reluctantly, I had to forget Garrett for a while. I had to dress warmly and protectively, for I was meeting the Hero at the fields at midnight. I had been the one deciding it, so I had to see it through.

After arming myself with my sword and my pistol, I climbed out the window and headed towards the fields. I did not know what awaited me there, except for the Hero, of course. So, I did not expect meeting the man himself, slumped against a tree, in front of a warming fire.

"Right on time," he said to me as I approached him. "And how was Garrett?"

"Garrett was just fine," I told him. "What is this?" I gestured the fire, and his uncomfortably calm manner.

"You are suspicious," he established. "Why?"

I tried to find an excuse for my suspicion, but shrugged my shoulders as I sat down by the fire. "You're usually tense, aggressive almost."

"Am I?" he asked, but did not require an answer, and sighed as he looked up at the starlit sky. "I like it in the open, on a night like this. You see, when you travel around like I do, you often tend to find peace in the solitude, and you can easily recognise the beauty of such a common thing as the night sky." He then fell silent, still looking up, as if I was not even there. It took a moment or two before he continued. "I have very few memories of my childhood, but there is one, so deeply rooted in me, I dream of it more often than I can count. My sister and I were looking for a warm place to sleep on a cold winter's night. We barely had shoes on our feet as we wandered through Old Town, searching for some trace of solidarity. We found some empty potato sacks in the warehouse, but the old man Towlers—he's probably dead by now—called us petty thieves and chased us away, outside the city walls. We were cold, and we were hungry, and as if Avo saw us and pitied us, we found a small campfire further up the road, right about here, that had been left unguarded, just recently. Everything was still there; the furs they had slept on, the food they had brought… travelling traders, we believed. Probably taken and killed by either Hobbes or Balverines. But we seized the moment and took use of the things they wouldn't need anymore. We stuffed ourselves with their food and drank ourselves full of their wine. I couldn't have been older than… seven or so. I remember crawling in under the warm furs, with my belly full of mutton meat and my body tingling of the alcohol, and looking up at the night sky, the same sky as we're looking up on now. And then, I saw the ancient gods and goddesses dance across the sky, the ancestors of Avo and Skorm. I saw how they painted the sky with green and red and blue… I could almost hear it move as I watched it. My sister said it was a sign. She said it meant that something great was going to happen, something that would change our lives. And our lives certainly did change, and I haven't seen the Dance of the Gods since. It was the northern lights, you see, gracing our southerners with its divine beauty and presence. Have you ever seen it, Ariana?"

He looked at me, and I had been so transfixed by his story, I gasped as his grey eyes settled upon mine. "N-no."

He nodded and again settled his eyes on the sky. "Very few have. It's usually seen far north, and some say it's common even, in the northernmost areas. The night we saw it, my sister said that it was meant for us, for her and me. I know that it was only her way of comforting a frightened child, but I still think about it, often at nights like this."

I had no idea how to act, how to behave, since I was not ready for something as deep as this. "I… I didn't know you have a sister…"

"Had," he said and looked at me again. "I had a sister. Her name was Rose. She was killed, by Lord Lucien. She was shot, and shortly after, I was shot, too. I was eight when that happened."

There was something tightening inside of me. I did not believe this was happening. I could not believe that Wolfsblade, the gruesome and vicious Hero I so ardently despised, was carrying such a tale of woe, and told me about it. "I… I…" I struggled to find something to say, but the words failed me. In the end, I could do little else than to look down on my lap. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Yes, so am I," he said. "But we didn't meet here to talk about me. We need to sort things out, don't we?"

I looked up at him, not sure anymore what to say. I was not even sure I knew what to tell him when I said I would meet him. "I suppose so."

He nodded decisively. "Do you want to learn how to fight properly?"

I let the question sink in for a while before I nodded. "Yes, I do."

"And will you let me teach you?" There was something unfamiliar in his voice; I had never heard him ask me such a question in such a just manner. He truly _did_ mean it as a question, as an honest question where he would accept my answer, no matter what it would be. Or, at least I wished it so. Whether or not that was the case, was a different matter entirely. But I dearly wished it to be true.

I swallowed. "I don't know."

He clenched his jaw, as his jaw muscles flexed in the light of the fire. "And what makes you doubtful? Is it my harsh way of training you? Is it insecurity? Do I frighten you?"

I was unable to give him a straight answer since I did not know what to tell him. After a tense pause, I took a deep breath. "All."

"All?" he repeated. "So you fear me, then?"

I looked away from him. "You're a powerful man. It would be foolish not to fear you."

"But I don't _want _you to fear me!" he almost growled as he moved closer to me.

I instinctively drew back, and looked at him with wide eyes. My heart was racing, and the flame cast cruel shadows in his scarred yet handsome face. "Then stop frightening me, sir! Stop looking at me as if you can't decide whether you want to rip my head off, or rip my clothes off!"

I could see frustration in his face as he sat down right beside where I had been sitting. He stared into the flames, his jaw muscle still flexing vexedly. "I would never hurt you, Ariana. Never."

"And yet, you threaten to _kill _me," I cried. "Don't you remember? You threatened to kill me if you ever saw me as Scarlet Rogue again. Or was that just an empty threat?"

"I don't make empty threats," he spat as he spun his head to me. "But that wasn't a _threat_, it was—" But he was interrupted by the sound of something heavy passing us by, galloping away in the dark.

"What _was_ that?" I breathed, but our questions were answered as a howl echoed in the night, and I knew, that the Hero's fears were as great as mine. I looked at him, my face pale in the starlight. "It's heading towards the city… we have to warn them!"

Wolfsblade only nodded as he rose and offered me his hand for support. I took it, and we hurried away. My heart was beating frantically, and my hand was resting on the grip of my Master Torrent as we ran towards the city walls. The Balverine's howl echoed through the night, and as we entered Old Town, people had started to peek out their windows, curious yet terrified. We stopped right outside my house while trying to locate the Balverine.

The beast howled again, and I pulled at the Hero's sleeve. "It's over at the Cemetery!"

Just as I was to start running again, Wolfsblade pulled me back. "Stay here. Go inside, keep your family safe."

I nodded, knowing it would be for the best. Should the beast break inside, I would be there, to protect my loved ones. But just as I was about to run for the door, it burst open.

"Oh, Ariana!" It was mother. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from tears, and her shrieking voice broke as she hurried to me. Father came after her, his grey hair wild and his rifle loaded. "Aaron! We can't find Aaron! _We can't find him_!"

"If that beast has my boy, I will tear its guts out!" father roared and staggered forwards.

"Father!" I called out. "Take mama, go inside and lock the door! I'll find him!" I did not let another second pass as I sprinted towards the Cemetery. I could see, from the corner of my eye, how Wolfsblade lunged at me, in an attempt of stopping me, but I was quicker than he was, and could easily outrun him.

"_Ariana_!" he bellowed after me, but I did not care. The only thing I cared about, was finding the beast or the boy, the one or the other, before they found each other.

When reaching the iron gates to the Cemetery, I could see that it had been opened, just slightly, and the opening was big enough for a little boy to fit through. I squeezed myself inside, and rose on the other side just as Wolfsblade reached the gates. He would not fit in the opening, but his arm shot out from between the bars, and grabbed hold of me.

"Don't be a fool, Ariana!" he hissed, his breath ragged. "There will be Hollow Men to watch out for as well! You don't know if he's in here!"

"I don't fear Hollow Men," I spat. "I've slain them since I was a little girl! Now, let go of me! I need to find my brother." I tore my arm out of his grip and sprinted into the foggy grounds of Bowerstone Cemetery. I could hear the Hero curse before the heavy gates were stormed, but I did not look back. Undead sprung from the ground everywhere I went, but they would not stop me. I let bullets fly through them, the bullets Wolfsblade had given me, and one after one, the souls wailed and departed forever.

There was another howl, and after, a shrill cry. A child's cry.

"Aaron?!" I shrieked, but there was no answer, only the growling of the beast, and the moaning of the Undead and I kept running. "_Aaron_?!"

"_Help_!" The boy's small voice carried through the dark, and my heart skipped. "_Ariana_!"

"Aaron, where are you?!"

"_In the crypt_!" the boy cried. "_Ariana, hurry! It's—_" He interrupted himself with a cry of fear, and the hair stood at the back of my neck, and I pushed my legs faster. "_It's breaking in!_ _Hurry_!"

"Aaron, I'm coming!" I cried at the top of my lungs as I skipped over gravestones and shot down the Hollow Men that came in my way. I headed up the pathway to the crypts, and there, almost at the top, I could spot the Balverine, thrashing at a door. It was rather small, but still powerful, and incredibly fast, but I had no time to think as I fired a shot towards the beast, and the giant wolf cried out when the bullet hit its shoulder. The beast turned to me, and howled out in anger before it leaped into the sky. I hurried to the crypt door. "Aaron!"

"_Ariana_!" cried the boy from inside. "_Ariana, I—I'm s-scared_!" I could hear the boy sob uncontrollably. "_I want to go home_!"

"I know, sweetheart, I know," I said as soothingly as I could. "But you will have to stay a little bit longer! I'll slay the beast, and you can bring back its head, and show it to Miles! That would—"

But the beast landed right behind me, and I turned with a gasp. Its coat was brown as dirt, and its teeth were sharp and yellow, while its eyes were green, glowing with bloodlust. It roared at me, and the smell of rotting flesh reeked from its mouth.

I pulled my sword and slashed towards the beast. I knew I was weaker with the blade than with the pistol, but in close combat, my katana would be my only saviour. The Balverine was fast, but so was I, and even though I struggled to keep up with its movements, I still managed to keep away from its razor sharp claws, but my balance was what failed me, and I fell to the ground, my sword falling from my hand. The Balverine attacked, sprinted towards me on all four, and I rolled away in the last second, but came further away from my sword. The Balverine then attacked again, and this time, I aimed a kick at its throat, and knocked it over, its cries temporarily croaked. It gave me enough time to reach for my sword, and return to a ready position, hunched and tensed.

The Balverine recovered fast, but did not attack. It circled me, as if it tried to find my weakest spot, but I mirrored its movements, and tried to keep my breath as calm as possible.

Had this been any other night, I would have been frightened, and dead already. But tonight, I went into this battle, with my life on the line, ready to die, for I would not let the beast have my little brother without fighting to the death first.

So I found a strange calmness inside of me, an odd strength rising from my toes to my fingers, and I knew, that if I died here tonight, I would take the beast with me.

It attacked again, but I was ready. I tried to steer the fight away from the crypt, away from the child, and I had successfully gained the Balverine's full attention. I lured it down to the thick of Hollow Men, and there, the Balverine would not only have me to fight, but also the horde of Undead. I could hear how Wolfsblade fought his way towards me, shouting my name between his war cries, as the souls of the slain Hollow Men echoed in the night.

But the brown Balverine would not let the slow Undead stop it from reaching its prey, which happened to be me, and though I believed I was fast enough, a very odd, icy feeling suddenly spread across my face, and was followed by a burning sensation, and I felt how something tickled down my cheeks.

The time seemed to stand still, and all the sounds around me muffled down, as if my head was under water. I heard Wolfsblade calling my name. He was coming closer. I heard the moans and cries of the Hollow Men, and the howl of the Balverine. I could not move, I felt no pain and I did not understand what had happened, what I had just felt. Red covered my eyes, and through it, I saw the beast slowly lunge at me, as if it was falling through something neither liquid nor solid, and I did the only thing my body was capable of. I raised my sword, and let the blade pierce the beast's head as it fell atop of me, and even though my back hit the ground, my mind kept falling, falling into nothingness.


	21. Chapter XX

**A/N: **We made it! Chapter twenty! Oh, gosh! Right, so this one has lots of details in a sense, and I hope you'll all see what I want you to see! ^^'

Alright, well, I won't chat away..

Enjoy!

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**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XX**

It was as if being awakened from a very deep sleep. I slowly felt my body stir, and then I felt the pain. My face was burning, but it was covered with something cooling. My head was resting on a soft pillow, and a thick blanket covered me. The memories returned; the roar of the brown Balverine, the moans of the Undead, and the cries of the frightened little boy in that crypt. I remembered the feeling inside of me, as I rushed to him, and I remembered the panic and fear spreading when I saw the beast tearing at the door to the crypt where he was hiding. But I had slain it. I had slain the best, but my memories ended with its dying howl.

I heard soft voices murmur around me, and a warm hand that was clutched around mine.

"Give her two a day, full bottles," a dark voice murmured. Wolfsblade. Had he saved me once again? How many times would that have to happen? It was most certainly turning into a bad, bad habit. "Mix them with water. She won't like it very much, but make sure she drinks it. Drip it on her face once a day, but don't be sparse. I'll bring more."

"Will it heal?" I could hear mother breathe.

"Yes," the Hero said. "But the potion won't take care of the scarring."

"Will she be…" Mother's voice was trembling. "Will she be _disfigured_?"

Scarring, disfigured… the words spun in my head, knocking into every sane thought I had left and infected them, like a disease spreading like wildfire.

The Hero lingered in silence for a moment before he took a deep breath. "Your daughter is alive, and that's a miracle."

I wanted to speak. I wanted to ask them what happened, how badly hurt I was. But I could not. No sound would escape my mouth, and in the end, I imagined myself looking like a fish, opening and closing my mouth like an idiot.

The warm hand around mine tightened. "Mama! She's waking up!"

Aaron… it was Aaron! He was alive! Oh, thank Avo, he was alive! I squeezed his hand with all my might, and it was not much, but it was enough. My Aaron… he survived! He made it out of the Cemetery alive! I spoke his name, but the sound would not escape my mouth. I took a deep breath and forced it out of me. "Aaron…"

"Oh, my little baby!" mother wailed as I could feel her weight on my bedside. "Oh how—how could you be as stupid as to—oh!" She sobbed hard as I felt her head lean against my belly, and she shook in tears.

Carefully, I brought my hand to caress her head. "I'm… I'm fine, mama." It was hard to speak, as if I had not used my voice for a long time, and as if something kept my lips from moving properly. I could still not see, but the knowledge that my beloved were close to me, was enough. "Where's father?"

Mother raised her head to speak, but the Hero's voice filled the room with a soft ring. "I'll tell him. You stay up here, Madam."

I heard the door open and close, and after scarcely a minute, my father came rushing in. "Ariana!"

"Father—"

"Hush, child!" mama sobbed. "Don't speak! You have to rest! The stitches might break!"

"I'm not tired," I told her, for I was not. My face hurt, but I was not tired. And stitches? Had I been so badly injured, they had to sew my face back together?

"My girl," father cried as I felt his hand grab the hand Aaron was not holding. "Why are you always to bull-headed?!"

I chuckled, but the curve of my lips caused pain to my already hurting face. "Because your _boy_… is a reckless little devil."

"Oh, I've given him a good scolding," father said. "Don't you worry about that! Worry about getting well, my dearest girl!"

We were then silent, all four of us, simply holding each other and appreciating the strong bond we had, and the strong love we felt for one another. We were all alive, in one piece—or so I thought—and knew that we would live. We would prevail.

I must have fallen asleep again before they left me, for I woke up again sometime later, all alone in my room. I could open one eye, for the other was covered by bandage. The pain would sometimes be excruciating, and sometimes even enough to make me faint. Sometimes when I opened my eyes, my mother would tend to me and force me drink the Healing Potions the Hero had supplied to us. It tasted horrible, which was not something I remembered from drinking it when I had to get well after sitting in the cold cell. It seemed to be working, however, for the pain went away, slowly but steadily.

I could barely keep count of the days as I drifted in and out of consciousness, but on what I believed to be the third day, the pain was no longer so violent, I could not stand being awake when my mother tended to my wounds.

As she slowly took the bandages off, I felt a slight sting in my face as the layers of fabric lessened from my face. I hissed when the last piece of fabric left my face, and mother examined me. My sight on the left eye was blurry, but I suspected that was because I had not used the eye for quite some time. But I knew there was something wrong, for even though I could use both my eyelids, the left one did not feel right.

"Yes, it's healing quite nicely," she said. But she still seemed troubled.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I can't think of anything that will help lessen the scarring," she sighed, her brows furrowed. "Oh, I shall have to go to the Alchemist and ask for his advice."

"Let me see," I told her. "Hand me a mirror."

"Oh, dearest, I don't think that's a good—"

"Hand me a mirror," I repeated. I wanted to see my face, see the damage, see what felt so horribly wrong. Mother swallowed before she handed me the hand mirror. With trembling hands, I brought it to my face. The face that stared back at me, however, was not me.

It was a monster.

Three deep and long scars trailed diagonally across it; one over my eyebrow and the bridge of my nose, burying deep into my cheek all the way to my jaw; one right below my eye, catching my left lower eyelid, almost splitting the tip of my nose in half, and following the roundness of my cheek; the last, slashing over my lips and over my chin, nearly cutting into my throat. The claws of the beast had been sharp enough to sever me to pieces, had I not been too far away, and instead, it disfigured me.

Clenching my jaw, I forcefully threw the mirror across the room and let it shatter into a million little pieces. I crossed my arms and leaned my back against the head of my bed. "I look like a monster."

"Oh," mother squealed. "Oh, darling, no! You're still pretty as a picture!"

I glared at her, tears building in my eyes, but not of sadness, but of anger and disgust. "I'm hideous!"

"My darling," mother sighed, "looks aren't everything!"

I chuckled darkly. "Are you really suggesting that _you_, the woman who's spent ten years of her life grooming her only daughter, putting fancy dresses on her, braiding her hair and painting her face, don't care about looks?! I know what you're thinking; how, oh how, are this girl _ever _going to find a husband, looking like _that_?"

Mother looked offended, and perhaps I had been too harsh. She then sighed. "You're alive. That's all that matters to me, Ariana, dear. I know you're upset, and shocked and grieved. But we will get through this, together."

I shook my head. "I want you to go now, mother. I need to be alone for a while."

"Of course," mother nodded and rose. Before she left, the turned back to me. "Mary was here earlier. She wanted to know how you were. Should I send her up if she comes again?"

"No," I said shortly. "I don't want any visitors. I don't want anyone to see me."

Mother said nothing as she silently left the room.

I did not want to cry. I had never thought myself as a beauty, but rather as someone extraordinarily ordinary. I never thought that losing something I had never had, would hurt so much. So I wept. In anger, in disappointment and in devastation. What would Garrett say? Would I ever dare to show myself to him again? And the Hero? Surely, he would now abandon all affection he ever held for me and give his attention to someone else, a girl whose beauty was far beyond my reach. I would forever be seen as the Scarred Girl. At least in Bowerstone. Perhaps, I could run away. I could put my mask on, and live as Scarlet Rogue, forever. I would be the Scarred Avenger, the protector of the innocent, the Faceless One. I could dedicate my life to saving others, and forget my dreams of family and happiness.

Perhaps, only perhaps, I would then die in peace, many years from now, knowing that my legacy would not be my blood, but the mark I had made on the world.

I did not leave my room for the next few days. I could hear people coming to visit, but mother followed my instructions and did not allow anyone to see me. I kept away from mirrors, and had even covered my large mirror with a sheet. I did not want to look at myself, the hideous monster. The scars had darkened and hardened and made my face even uglier. My lips were plump on all the wrong places, and I could barely close it properly without showing my teeth, and my right cheek, which was framed by the middle scar and sliced with the upper, bulged in two strange cushions on my face. The middle scar had left me lop-eyed, and it was watering all the time, forcing me to constantly dry it with a soft cotton cloth. I wanted to forget all about my face, all about the damages, about my hideousness, and keep reminding myself that Aaron was alive, and that was all that mattered.

The days slowly turned to weeks, and I was still confined to my room. Aaron spent a great deal of time with me, playing cards and telling me about his days, and all contact I had with the real world, was my window. I saw the first snow as it softly fell over the streets and rooftops of Old Town, and I could see how the yearning children ran out to play in the white cold. The world outside went on as usual, while I was stuck in despair and devastation.

I missed the election. But it would not matter, anyway; who would want a disfigured monster as their Mayor? George was the elected one, as suspected, and thus the new Mayor of Bowerstone. Mother said there would be celebrations at the Market for the whole day and night, but no one in Old Town would celebrate it, for they all had heard of my bravery and voted for me. I had had the second most votes, but it had not been enough. And that was just as well.

Garrett had come to me, the night after the election, and hissed my name outside my window. But I had not come to see him. I had remained in my bed, listening to his longing calls. "_Ariana_," he had said, "_please, come and see me! I heard about what happened. I heard about your face… it would not matter to me how you looked, Ariana, for it is you, the real you, beyond your exterior, that has caught me! Your heart and your soul!_"

Though feeling flattered and touched by this, I had turned him down. I did not want to see his blue eyes that once came with promises of a wonderful future. That future was gone before it had even had the chance to begin. "Go away, Garrett, and keep away." I then heard him sigh deeply before he left, and I cried myself to sleep.

The days were dull, and full of angst and sorrow, and in the darkest of hours, I wished the beast had killed me instead of scarred me. I wished my valour would be remembered and honoured, and I wished to be remembered as the girl who fought the Balverine, and took it down with her, instead of the girl who killed the Balverine and was left so severed, she could no longer be seen in public.

One night, I woke up in the middle of it, from the terrible nightmares that haunted me, with a strange weight on my bedside. Someone was sitting there. I gasped as I pulled my knees to my chin. "Who's there?!"

"Don't worry, Miss Ariana, it's only me." Wolfsblade's dark voice was soft in the night. His hand then burst into flames and he reached it out to lighten the wax candle on my nightstand. The light spread through the room, and I could see him, sitting there, his elbows resting on his knees.

"How did you get in?" I asked silently, afraid to wake the others.

"The window," he explained without looking at me. He obviously thought me hideous to look at.

"Why are you here?" As much as I wanted him gone, I could not deny the relief in having him there.

"I wanted to see you," he said. "I've come by several times, but your mother wouldn't let me go up here. But I couldn't keep away any longer." He then turned his head to me, and while I expected an angered and disgusted face, it proved to be haunted and miserable. I turned my face away, my cheeks reddening. I did not want him to see me like this.

"What happened?" It was only a whisper, but I had wondered, so many nights, what had truly happened that night.

He sighed. "They were everywhere… the Hollow Men. You disappeared in the fog, and I got stuck fighting them. I didn't see you again until I saw you fight that Balverine. You were good. You were… really good. Quick, agile, fierce… you're still not striking with your whole body, though, but perhaps that was for the better. When the… when the Balverine fell on top of you, I thought it bent down for the deathblow, to devour you, so I lunged at it, but it was already dead. You killed it, Ariana. You slew a Balverine." He took a deep breath and I could hear him turn his head away. "When I removed the creature from you, I first thought it was the Balverine's blood that was smeared across your face, but then I saw the wounds. I thought it'd killed you."

"But it hadn't," I whispered.

He chuckled softly. "No. Apparently, you're a bit harder than that to kill."

"And Aaron?" I asked. "Did you help Aaron?"

"That boy is clever," Wolfsblade said. "Hollow Men are no match for him. You've taught him well. He made it down to us, took your pistol and together, we cleared the way of Hollow Men while I carried you back."

I nodded, still looking away from him, my chest almost exploding with pride. "Thank you, for everything. But I'd like you to leave now."

Without a word, he rose from the bed and walked across the room. "When I was at the Spire," he then said, his back turned, "after I had killed Lucien, it was… taken, by my mentor Theresa, the Blind Seeress. She explained to me, that the Spire contained a special kind of magic, a kind that Lucien wanted to use, and he needed me to use it. She said it was connected to me, to my blood, that I was the key, and because of it, the Spire could look into my future, and let me have a glimpse. So I let it show me what my future held." He paused for a short while before he continued. "I was to be King of Albion, in a grand hall of gold and silver, with subjects and servants and warriors. And next to me, stood a woman. She was faceless, and had… no particular features, nothing to make her special. But she was there, and for some reason, she was all that mattered. Not the gold, not the silver, neither the subjects nor the servants, not the warriors… the woman." He took another pause and leaned his arms against the wall. "When I left the Spire, all I could think of, was that woman, and the only one I could see in her place, was you." He turned his head half towards me, but then he sighed heavily as he walked towards the window. "I know you despise me. I know that… I know that I can never have you. But know this; I will do whatever I can to make sure you'll be able to take care of yourself, no matter the situation, and if you cannot protect yourself, I will protect you, whether you want it or not, even if that means protecting you from yourself. That is why I'd rather kill you myself than knowing you could be out there, being tarnished by bandits and left in a ditch to die. I've seen far too many young girls face that fate. You might think of me as cruel and evil for it, and I won't stop you, but at least, I'm honest. Good night, Miss Ariana." He was gone before I had a chance to ask him to stay.

I thought of what he had told me, about the Spire and about the vision of his future. Was it true? Surely, I had heard of the great power of the Spire—we had all heard the stories while growing up—but was it true? Was Wolfsblade meant to wear the crown, the ancient crown that had not been worn since the Old Kingdom and the last Archon?

And, surely he could not mean that he wanted me stand beside him, as his Queen? Looking like I did, who would ever want that sort of Queen? I felt cheated and humiliated. Surely, he did not mean it. Who wanted a monster like me? No one.

It was pain I had never felt, greater than the pain I had experienced from the wounds in my face, to know that I would forever be seen as a hideous, malformed fool who thought she would be strong enough to kill a Balverine and live to tell the tale, with pride. I lived, but not with pride. My brother told me every day how I was celebrated as the Saviour of Old Town, how they thought it magnanimous of me to offer my beauty for the safety of the city, but I knew… I knew they would look at me with disgust if they ever saw me. They, too, would whisper of how death would have been kinder than this awful fate.

The tears welled out from my eyes, and I did nothing to stop them. Who would care? Who would care about a crying, disfigured girl, locked inside her room? The people out there went on with their lives, as if nothing had happened, preparing for the cold winter and fighting their own battles in their own everyday life. In a year, they would have all forgotten about me, the Saviour of Old Town. My mark on the world was not yet as deep as the marks on my face, and it time, it would all be forgotten. Scarlet Rogue's name would be remembered far longer than the name of Ariana the Tailor's daughter, and no one would know I was the one to perform all of those heroic deeds. I had never wanted fortune or fame, but knowing that I might perhaps go to the grave, without telling a single soul—except for the Hero who, himself, sought fame and fortune—about who I really was, hurt more than I could ever have imagined.

I would rot away in my room, locked away from the outer world, chained by anger, humiliation and fear, in my own prison, and I would die here, scared, angry and alone.


	22. Chapter XXI

**A/N:** Duh-duh-duuuh! I'm back! :D How're y'all? Yeah, that was my Southern states-twang.. oh well! Thank you all so much for the review and favs and alerts! :D I love you for it!

Now, previously, we learnt to know that Ariana had been badly scarred by the Balverine, and though I gave a description of the injuries, I drew a rough sketch of how it would look, and you can find it here; **i44 . tinypic (. com) / 8xn7mt . jpg** (remove the spaces and parentheses!)

Anyways,

enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart****  
**

**Chapter XXI**

It had been a week of full winter. The bells of the horses from the streets rang softly in the cold, and I wished—by Avo, did I wish!—that I could be out there, enjoying the soft snow and enjoying the first real wave of winter. But I could not. No, I was still confined to my room, and I had to admit that the solitude was wearing on me. More often than I wished, did I think back on that night, on everything that could have been done differently. If I had only let the Hero do what he did best, and stay in the house, I would not have been hurt, and Aaron would have been saved anyway. It was just pride and the illusion that I was the only one who could save my little brother that drove me to be irrational. At times, I even cursed my brother for running out in the middle of the night. He wanted to practice killing Hollow Men, he said, and had stolen my old pistol and snuck out when he though the rest of us would be asleep, just as I had done since I was his age. I knew it was wrong, to curse the boy for doing what I did, but had he not run out, this would have never happened. Though, I could not put the blame on the boy. I knew what curiosity did to a young soul—what curiosity still did to me—and had it been any other night, everything would have been different. But fate had to be cruel to be kind; I had to sacrifice something for my brother's life, something I would gladly do again.

So I was looking out the window, wishing to be out there, in the snow, but knowing I never would again.

Aaron then rushed into my room, with his winter cap on, his face red from the cold. "Ariana! Ariana, please come outside with me! We can be on the back yard! No one will see!"

I sighed. "Aaron, don't be silly. You know I can't be outside."

"Oh, but please?" he begged. "I promise I will make sure no one sees you!"

"No!" I cried angrily at him, and the boy lowered his eyes shamefully.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I just wanted to be with you."

Guilt spread through my chest as the boy stood before me with lowered head. "I didn't mean it like that, Aaron. It's just… I don't want to go outside. I'm better off in here."

"The Hero says we should try to get you out," Aaron said. "He says it's not good for you to be in the same room like this. He says that you should—"

"Aaron," I sighed and kneeled in front of the boy. "Mr Wolfsblade has got nothing to do with this. He doesn't know what's best for me. No one does, but me. Besides, when did _you _talk to the Hero?"

Aaron shrugged. "He comes here at least once every week."

I furrowed my brows. Surely, that would not be necessary? "Once a week… why?"

"I don't know," the boy replied. "He talks to mother and father, gives them something, and leaves."

"He _gives _them something?" I breathed. A tremble started to spread through me. I had long been without the remedy, so it would not be that. So what was he giving my parents? A sudden shiver ran along my spine, as a dreadful thought filled my mind.

"Yes," Aaron answered. "I don't know what, though. Nobody tells me anything in this house."

Clenching my jaw, I sighed. "Why don't you go outside and play, Aaron? I'll watch you from the window."

"Oh, but that won't be any fun!" Aaron moaned as he dragged his feet out of my chambers.

"And tell mama I'd like to speak to her!" I called after him, and the boy grunted as a response.

Not long after, mother peeked in, and I found myself angered at the bare sight of her. "You wanted to see me, dear?"

"Yes," said I and smiled. "Yes, I did. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Well, alright," mother said and smiled. "Let's hear it, then."

"I've heard that we are visited quite frequently," I said as I paced the room. "By the Hero, no less. What an honour, I dare say."

"Oh, yes," mother nodded. "Quite an honour! But I think it is all because of you, Ariana, dear. He is very fond of you, you see, and—"

"Yes, yes," I muttered impatiently. "But I also hear that he's quite generous and _brings _things when he comes. Pray, mama, what is it that he brings you?"

Mother looked positively shocked. She had obviously not expected me to find out as much. "Well, he—he is _very _generous indeed, and… and I think we should be grateful that—"

"Of course," I interrupted her. "Of course we should be grateful for having such an… _intimate _friend, that brings us things in the cold of winter."

"You are perfectly right," mother smiled.

"And how are you doing?" I then asked, a bit softer. "Financially, I mean. Without my income, I suppose it's a bit harder to keep everything at the standard we are used to. Especially since the winter came so early this year."

"Oh, we manage it well," mother chuckled. "Don't you worry about that, Ariana dear."

"But you haven't applied for a job?" I asked as I sat down on my bed.

"Oh, gods, no," mother laughed as she sat down by my desk. "What would _I _apply for? Such a silly thought!"

"Silly indeed," I smiled and looked down on my lap. "But… do forgive me, mother, but aren't you a bit careless with the little money we've got? Sweet potatoes two days ago, fine grained rice yesterday… surely, such luxury isn't necessary, since it costs quite a bit?"

"Oh, but I told you," mother said softly, "we manage it well."

"Yes, I suppose you would," I muttered, "when you take money from the Hero."

Mother gasped. "What? Who to—why do you think that?!"

"Oh, mother, don't be a fool," I spat as I rose. "Aaron told me the Hero comes here at least once every week, and _gives _you things! What is it he really gives you? Is it money? Food? Does he _pity _us because I cannot go to work?!"

"He is being charitable," mother hissed irritably. "And we should be thankful for his magnanimous way towards us! We couldn't possibly live with only your father's income again; do you remember the last winter we only had his wages? When we almost starved ourselves on salted herring and dried black roots? When father had to collect firewood from old coffins from the Cemetery? I can't apply for work, for who would hire such an old hag like me? And Aaron is far too young to be out there working! If you can't go out there, then—"

"_Look _at me!" cried I. "How could I ever go out there again?! Do you think I'd like to be the laughing stock of the whole of Bowerstone? Do you really think I _want _to be the one they all whisper about, point at, laugh at?! Do you really believe I want to be the spectacle the children rush to see? Because if I go out there, I _will_! I _will _be the one they're all whispering about!"'

"I know, darling, I know!" mother sighed. "I'm only telling you the truth. I can't work, you can't work and Aaron can't work. We have no other choice than to look for the money somewhere else."

"Yes, mama, I know!" cried I. "But how can you take it from _him_?! Don't you realise that we keep on piling our debt to him! Your two children are alive thanks to him, and now you're accepting his money… how are we _ever_ to repay him?!"

"He said himself that there is no debt," mother sighed in a tone that was not all too unfamiliar. She did not want to continue this argument.

"Of course he says there is no debt," I muttered. "He is such a gentleman, such a Hero! Of course there is no debt! Why would there be a debt? We're just a poor family he's obliged to help! No debt, indeed! But there is, mama, there _is_, and we will spend our whole lives trying to repay it, and he knows it."

"You far too cynical for someone your age," mother muttered and rose. "I can't believe you dislike him so. After all he's done, after all he's done for _you_, no less, and you still doubt him? Shame on you, Ariana! _Shame _on you!"

"Yes," I sighed sarcastically, "because I know nothing of the great, powerful and _valiant _Hero, who is only trying to help us through some difficult times, and who is so madly in love with me, he does whatever he can to save my poor family from sadness and grief and ridicule. Instead of doubting this… _honourable _man, I should have run to him and thrown myself at his feet and said, 'take me, My Lord, for I am yours!' You're perfectly right, mama; shame on me."

Mother stood gawking at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She had nothing to say to be, nothing to reply. After a moment, when she had gathered herself, she took a deep breath. "I'll make parsnip soup for supper. Would you like to eat downstairs with us tonight?"

I only gave her a vexed huff.

"Alright, then, your Highness, as you wish," she sighed and left the room.

Oh, how angered I was! Such impertinence! How could he offer them _money_? He knew we would never be able to repay him, and I knew him enough to know that he certainly would see this as a debt, but he would be clever about it. Oh, that was the way of the so _honourable _Hero. Perhaps I had been a bit too harsh to my mother, and most probably caused her unnecessary pain, but I did not care; if they wanted to trust the man, they should at least know who they were trusting.

It angered me for the rest of the day. I could not think about anything else than how we would ever repay the man. It was positively impossible, unless I saved his life a number of times and then worked at the tavern for free, and at present, both seemed rather impossible.

At supper, mother brought my food to my chambers. It had been weeks since I had eaten with the rest of my family, partly because I did not want to sit at the table and listen to their stories of the day, and partly because I did not want them to stare. I could barely eat properly without having to wipe my chin once every minute, because of my scarred lips. I also did not want to risk being seen through the window. If I had kept hidden this long, I would surely be able to stay hidden for a while longer.

But would I? That night, I could barely breathe. I lay in my bed, tucked in under my warm blanket, and I could not breathe. I felt trapped and I felt cheated by fate itself. I could no longer stand being this pitiful creature, but I could not—dared not!—return to life as I knew it, but I had to flee. It was in panic I packed a small bag and put my winter robe on. I armed myself and pulled the hood over my face, and even though I felt a strong regret, I climbed out my window, into the night. I landed on the soft snow, and the bare wind in my face was indescribable. I was free. I was out of my room, and felt the ground beneath my feet. Perhaps, if I were lucky, my feet would take me somewhere nice, where I did not have to hide. I took a step, but a voice behind me, saying my name, startled me and made me cry out in fright. I spun around, only to find Mr Wolfsblade leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. The moonlight, amplified by the white, glistering snow, revealed a smirk on the man's lips. I quickly covered my face with the hood and hissed. "What are you _doing_ here?!"

"I might just ask you the same," said he as he tightened his brows in a wondrous look. "Taking a late night walk, are we?"

"_We_ aren't doing anything," I spat. "What are you doing here? On my lands?"

"Oh, I'm here every night," he sang amusedly, "making sure you're not escaping your little self-made cell."

Indeed, he was being sarcastic. But it did not amuse me. If anything, it angered me even further. "I'm in no mood for a joke, sir."

"Where are you going?" he asked, and though he ignored my question, his voice was very soft and soothing, and I was suddenly taken by insecurity. Where _was_ I going?

"I—I…" I sighed deeply. "I don't know. Away from here. Far away from here."

He nodded. After a moment's silence, he inhaled sharply yet pensively. "Is Knothole Island far enough?"

Tightening my brow, I stared at him uncomprehendingly. "What? Knothole Island? Why would I go to Knothole Island?"

He took a deep breath before he strode towards me and carefully but decisively removed the hood from my face. I wanted to fight him, but I could not move for I was too stunned and too embarrassed. Instead, I refused to look him in the eye, but his hand gripped my chin tenderly and forced me to look at him. His steel orbs were worried but not disgusted. Not the slightest, and it took me by surprise, and blood rushed to my cheeks. "Have you heard of the Beauticians of Knothole Island?" he asked.

"Of course I have," I breathed.

"They can help you," he said, "if you want it."

Devastation spread through me, as I realised that he was trying to lure me into accepting such a gift from him. Of course he was! The Beauticians of Knothole Island were famous for their skill—and their prices. Wolfblade was fully aware of our economical situation, since he was now a part of it. And now, he wanted to give me this, assuming I would gladly accept it. But I would not. I would not indebt myself to this man any further than I already had. "I know what you're implying, sir, and I'm flattered. But I cannot accept it."

He pulled his brows together as I readied myself to walk away from him. "Why not?"

"Because, _sir_," I hissed, "you have tricked my family long enough! I know you've given my parents money, telling them there is no debt! I know you, Mr Wolfsblade; you would not do such a thing without hidden agendas! My father might be foolishly naive, and my mother even more so, but I am _not_."

He raised a brow at my accusations and clenched his jaw. "So, you're so determined not to accept my help, that you turn down such an offer, just because _I _gave it to you? If I'd told Garrett to take the money and give you the same proposition, or Mary, or Alan, or Patrick, or _any _other, would you accept it then?"

"It would still be _your _money!" I spat.

"But you wouldn't know that!" he retorted.

I clenched my jaws and crossed my arms. I would not yield.

He gave his eyes a roll as he shook his head. "You're acting like a child, Ariana. I'm giving you a gift. If you want to look at it as a loan, as a debt you'll owe me, then by all means! What I want in return, then, is your happiness. I want to see you smile again. That is something that's worth more to me than money." He sighed. "If you still don't want it, I shan't force you. But please, refuse it because you simply don't want to, and not because _I _am the one to give you the offer."

We remained as we were for a while before I finally let my arms fall to my sides. "I can't promise you a smile," I begun, "but… I would indeed be happy if I got my face back, my _life_ back."

The corners of his mouth twisted into a smile. "Well, that would be sufficient, then. Shall we go?"

"What—you mean _now_?" I gasped. I was certainly not ready for that.

"Well, what did you think?" he chuckled as he gently spun me around and put a hand on my back as he pushed me forwards. "That I just happened to be outside your window?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You were thinking about breaking into my room again, were you not?"

"I certainly was," he said boldly, with a vexing smirk on his lips. "To be honest, I would have taken you with me whether you wanted it or not. But I'm glad it didn't come to that." I gasped at his rude manners, but he only chuckled. "Now, don't look so surprised! I thought you said you knew me?"

I was in fact so stunned by his rudeness, I could not reply. Instead, I pulled my hood further down my face to make sure no one would see me, should anyone decide to look out their window in the middle of the night.

We walked in silence, with only the sound of the crunching snow beneath our feet, and it was so wonderful to hear, so magical, I could barely let myself leave the snow covered ground to board the submarine down by the docks. Wolfsblade really did plan on taking me to Knothole Island, whether I wanted it or not, because he had dragged poor Gordon out of bed to take us there.

Once comfortably seated inside the small underwater boat, I looked at the Hero. "Isn't it an awfully long way to Knothole Island?"

"A night and a day's journey," he nodded. "But I paid Gordon here twice as much for it to go twice as fast." We were silent for a long while, before Wolfsblade spoke again. "You know, Miss Ariana," said he. "Scars are reminders. In time, if you let them, they become a part of who you are. They help define you. This," he pointed at a very fine scar crossing his lips, "is from a bar fight I much foolishly started in Westcliff during my younger days, even before I fought in the Crucible. Now, you might think this was from a thug with a knife, but this was actually from a bar maid, wielding a broken bottle. She was the only one smart enough to arm herself, while the rest of us fought with our fists. This one," he pointed at a slightly deeper scar placed diagonally across the bridge of his nose, "is from a cheeky little traveller that robbed me blind. I chased him down and killed him, but that little rat managed to cut me first." The Hero clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before he continued. "Now, this one, over my eye, is from—"

"I know what it's from," said I. "It's from that Balverine you tore the head off in the Crucible. The one that earned you your name. It almost took your eye out."

He chuckled. "Yes, that's correct. How did you know?"

I smiled vaguely. "Everyone in Bowerstone knows that story."

He nodded and smiled softly. "But I bet they don't know the truth about the other two? What I'm trying to say, Miss Ariana, is that those scars in your face… they could be a part of you. They could mean a great deal in time, if you let them. Removing them would, in a sense, be like erasing the moment you received them. Are you ready for that?"

I swallowed as my heart hurried its beats. "Had I been man," I started, "keeping them would be less painful and more proud. It's certainly unfair, but in Bowerstone, women don't seem to be much more than their looks. Now, I've never stood out; I've never been pretty, I've never been ugly, I've only been… plain. And I'd very much like to go back to that. So yes, I am ready."

Looking at me with tormented eyes, the Hero only nodded.


	23. Chapter XXII

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for your reviews, favs and alerts! :D You're awesome! And, I did my math finals today! Yay! :D No more math for me!

Right, okay, so.. here's chapter twenty-two. I hope you'll all like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart **

**Chapter XXII**

I do not know when I fell asleep, but I was awakened by the Hero's gentle shake as he told me we had arrived at Knothole Island. I stretched and yawned, and the slow rocking of the submarine told us we were no longer below the surface. I looked at him, a bit frightened, but excited all the same.

He led me out onto the docks, and the first thing that struck me, was the biting cold, burying deep through the clothes, and I shuddered violently. "Oh, it's so cold!"

"It's the sea," he explained as he swung a warming arm over my shoulders and led me forwards. "Now, you have both the winter winds, and the cold currants, making this one of the coldest places in Albion. Even the cold heights of Mistpeak Mountains cannot beat the winters of Knothole Island."

"Is it true, what they say?" I asked. "About the weather? That it can snow in the summer, and bloom in the winter?"

Wolfsblade smirked. "Indeed. Ancient magic. Powerful stuff. This island is full of it. Are you hungry?"

Confused by his sudden change of subject, I foolishly nodded. "Yes, a bit."

"Then we'll have something to eat first," he said, just as we entered a small, crescent shaped town. There were a few buildings, but nothing particular, and I looked sceptically at the Hero.

"Is this all?"

"No," he chuckled. "This is only the trading centre. The village is further up that path." He pointed forwards, past the small half-circle of houses. "When traders came here with their ships, they seldom wanted to carry the good all the way to the village, since they never knew what the weather would be like—drowning cloudburst or boiling heat—so they built this trading post. Before we continue into the village, we must do one stop."

"Where?"

He pointed towards one of the buildings. "The Cosmetician."

I felt suddenly nervous. "Is that where…?"

"No," he promised. "I just thought we should let the Cosmetician decide whether a potion will be enough, or if they have to burn them away."

"_Burn _them?!" I gasped. Indeed, I had not expected such harsh methods.

He chuckled. "Not like that. They call it 'to burn' when they mix and smoke herbs from fireplants. It's said to clean, just as fire does. How they remove the scarring, I do not know."

Feeling slightly calmer, we carefully entered the building. A woman with auburn, tangled hair greeted us with a gentle smile.

"Mr Wolfsblade!" said she. "Welcome back! What can I do for you, sir?"

"Magnolia," smiled the Hero. "You look perfectly glowing."

"Thank you," the woman smiled. "It's the winter blossoms. I have it in my tea every night, gives the skin that extra glow." She giggled and shook her shoulders. Then she noticed me standing slightly behind the Hero, with my hood pulled over my face. "What do we have here?"

"Magnolia, this is a friend of mine," Wolfsblade said and stepped aside to allow me forwards, but I did not move. "A while back, she was in an accident."

"Come, darling," said the woman, Magnolia, sweetly. "Let me see." Carefully, she took hold of my arm and pulled me along, into a better light. She then removed my hood. She made a face of pity as she studied my hideousness, and I wanted nothing but to run and hide. "Oh, darling girl… was it a Balverine?"

I nodded slightly.

Magnolia sighed and straightened. "I've seen it. A hundred times, it seems. Nasty creatures, those Balverines. You were lucky."

"Lucky?" I muttered. "I look like a monster."

"Oh, I've seen worse," the woman chuckled. "Much worse. Noses and eyes missing… jaws split in two… Balverines can be truly vicious, almost as if their purpose is to hurt us more than kill us. But don't you worry, your damage is reparable."

As if a weight lifted from my shoulder, a weight that had held me down, I was suddenly soaring. I could barely breathe as a chuckle escaped my mouth. "D-do you mean it? Will I—will I look normal again?"

The woman nodded with a soft smile. "Indeed you will."

"Do you have anything for it here?" Wolfsblade asked.

But Magnolia sighed and shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I have not. The scars are easy enough to heal, but too deep for my potions. The Beauticians will take care of it."

I glanced from Magnolia to Wolfsblade, and the Hero nodded. "I see. How long do you think it will take?"

"Oh, that depends," Magnolia answered. "All skins react differently to the herbs, but it should take longer than a few hours."

"A few hours?" I burst out. "Pardon me, ma'am, but a few hours? What are you going to _do _to me?"

"Now, now," smiled the woman, "there's absolutely nothing to worry about. You will be in good hands. The Beauticians are the best in Albion, you know."

Nodding, I lowered my head. A curious feeling spread through my stomach, as if I had changed my mind and did not want to meet the Beauticians, after all. When the Hero and I left Magnolia, I silently told him, "I think I have changed my mind."

He was quiet for a long, unnerving moment, as we slowly strolled towards the village. "Well," he then said, "at least you got away for a while. Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, but—" Interrupting myself, I also found myself interrupting my pace, and halted.

The Hero sighed as he turned to me. "Ariana, this is your choice entirely. If you don't want to go through with it, then don't. My only question is; what are you afraid of?"

I shook my head, forcing down the cries that rose in my throat. "I don't know… becoming even uglier, perhaps?"

Though I was perfectly serious, the Hero burst out laughing. "You're afraid the Beauticians will destroy your face, rather than mend it?"

I glared at him. "Well, it's destroyed already. I just don't want them to make it any worse."

"They won't make it any worse!" he assured as he carefully gripped my shoulders. "They use ancient skills and magic! Skills and magic our ancestors used to remove scarring, and skills and magic _their _ancestors used for the same purposes! You have nothing to fear, Ariana. I promise you that."

I stared at him, stared into his eyes. He was so certain, the bare certainty frightened me. "How can you be so sure? What if it's nothing but humbug? What if they are only out for your money?"

He gripped my chin tenderly. "It's not humbug." He observed my face, and I could see how his eyes followed the curves of my darkened scars, all three of them. "I would never let them treat you if I didn't know you'd be in good hands." He stroked his thumb carefully over the scars, and a shiver ran through me. He followed them with his fingers, just as he had with his eyes, and then returned to holding my chin. "I want you to be happy, Ariana. If this is what it will take, then I'll pay for it. If you would rather flee Bowerstone, move somewhere else, I'd help you. If you wanted to… flee Albion all together, I'd make that happen for you." There was something about his touch, something about his eyes and words, that drew me nearer, pulled me to him, and when we were close enough, I carefully took the front of his shirt in my hands. I felt his free hand slowly grip my waist, and pulled me closer. I felt his scent, musky and dangerous, and the hand he had kept, so tenderly on my chin, slowly followed the curve of my neck and throat. "I'd do anything for you, Ariana."

My voice trembled as our lips were only inches apart, "don't say that."

"Why not?" he hissed.

"Because you might change your mind."

"Not in a million years," he assured, his lips so dangerously close to mine, I could feel them brush against mine, but only slightly.

My heart was throbbing, and I had never felt more tempted to kiss the Hero than now, and I could almost taste his lips, as a sudden rush spread through me; a fear, and a devastation that was impossible to describe, and I quickly pulled away, almost as a frightened animal, and nearly fell onto the ground.

He stood firmly where he stood, looking at me as if I had gone completely mad, and perhaps I had. "What are you doing?"

"I—I can't," I breathed as I quickly pulled my hood over my head and rushed past him, towards the village. I could not kiss him. I could not let him draw me in like that; I was hideous, and the bare thought of how disgustingly it must be to kiss me, was enough to tear me apart and forever condemn myself to a life of solitude and misery. I could no longer be like this. I was not adequate for a life like this, a life of self-loathing and pain. The Hero deserved someone as handsome and him, not a disfigured commoner with nothing but a few good shots and the unwillingness to yield to offer. No one deserved such a creature, positively no one.

I thanked the cold, for they prevented my tears from falling, and well in the heart of the village, I stopped and looked over my shoulder. The Hero was trotting along, as if nothing had happened. When his long strides caught up with me, I kept from looking at him. "Where are the Beauticians?" It was a mutter, but the Hero seemed untouched by this.

"In the small house, over there." He pointed towards the edge of the village, near the rich, dark forest, and I nodded gratefully.

"Thank you." I turned to him, but did not look at him. "Will you stay with me? When they burn the scars away?"

"If you'd like," said he. "Are you sure you want to go through with it?"

"Yes." My answer was short and sharp, for I had decided. It could not be worse than it already was, and if I had one chance to change it, then what was stopping me? What _was_ I afraid of?

"Don't you want to eat first?"

He seemed momentarily confused, but I decisively shook my head. "No."

"Very well, then," Wolfsblade said and urged me to follow him.

The short walk to the last house felt almost eternal, and once we entered the house, into the mist of foreign herbs and mutterings and chanting, I felt afraid again.

A woman approaches us, a tall, dark woman with a long, brown and golden dress, and with black hair, dreaded together in small strands that looked like ropes, and her eyes were broodingly dark, like obsidian. She took a bow. "And so the Hero returns," she said, her voice dark and elegant. "Welcome back, Mr Wolfsblade. I thought I'd see you again."

"You've been here before?" I whispered to the Hero.

"Yes." It was the woman who answered, with a slight smirk on her luscious lips. "Ten shattered ribs, and a chest that looked like a carved ham. Oh, I remember. Someone should have told you that the beasts of Knothole Island are a bit more vicious than those of the mainland."

"Yes, someone should have," Wolfsblade agreed. "Well, I am all healed now. Your brilliant work is needed for someone else."

The woman made a grunt of consent and eyed me, from head to foot. "The young lady you brought…" She walked closer to me, and her height was rather intimidating. She reached out to remove my hood from my face, and when it fell to my shoulders, she seemed puzzled. "This is from a Balverine. Girl, how can you still be alive?"

Astonished by her ability to tell the attacker from the scar, I turned first to Wolfsblade and then back to the woman. "Well, I… I killed it."

The woman smiled, seemingly satisfied with my answer. "A little Balverine slayer… you sacrificed a lot for that victory, I see." She gently examined the scars in my face. "Deep. The eye will be tricky, but the rest should be simple enough."

"How long will it take?" I whispered.

"The sheer deepness is enough for it to take hours," answered the woman. "The eye… an hour alone."

"What about my lips?"

"Simple," said the woman. "The skin is soft and thin on the lips. The scar appears deeper than it is because of it. Once the herbs have burnt away the scars, your lips will fall to place."

I nodded, feeling more and more worried about the procedure. "Will I look… as I did before?"

"Well, I don't know," the woman smiled and walked slowly and elegantly over to a cupboard and brought out a flask containing a slightly unclear, almost misty liquid. "I don't know how you looked before. But the scars will be gone. Here, drink this."

I observed the flask. "What is it?"

"Lavender and poppy. It will help you relax."

Before I drank the misty liquid, I glanced at the Hero. He nodded at me, encouraged me to do as this woman said, to trust her, and even though I somehow hated myself for it, I trusted him. I drank the contents of the flask in one sweep and shuddered at the strangely pleasant feeling that spread through me.

"Now, I must beg you to leave," the woman said to Wolfsblade.

The Hero furrowed his brows. "Nonsense. I am staying here."

"Mr Wolfsblade," the dark woman sighed, so decisively, the floor nearly shook, "I will not work unless it is on my own terms. Leave, or I will not help this young girl."

Infuriated, the Hero obeyed, and left a heavy bag of coins on a counter before he disappeared out the door. Never had I seen a woman with such power over someone like Wolfsblade, and I was impressed and slightly envious, and I did certainly not want to know how much money that bag contained.

Carefully, I stepped further into the building. "May I ask your name, ma'am?"

"Madame Yarrow," she said.

"Do you all have names from herbs and flowers?" The remedy was already starting to affect me, and it felt as if all the troubles in the world disappeared from me. "That other woman, the one by the docks… her name was Magnolia!"

"People of our trade often take names of things that are used within our profession," she explained. "You will soon enough meet my assistant, Valeria. Come with me, miss…?"

"Ariana!" I said, ashamed I had not introduced myself before. "My name is Ariana."

"Well, Miss Ariana, come with me," Madame Yarrow smiled, and I followed.

She led me down a stair, down below the earth, and well there, we entered a room, that was horridly humid and smelled heavily of strange, foreign herbs. The walls were covered with shelves of jars and flasks, and a fire was burning in a corner. Another woman stood by a sheet covered table. She was blonde, with tiny little braid in her hair, and feathers and beads. She looked at me with a smile.

"Welcome," she said, in the sweetest voice I had ever heard. "I am Valeria." She danced towards me and gracefully reached out her hand for me to shake. "We will make you beautiful again."

"Now, now, Valeria," Madame Yarrow said. "Is everything prepared?"

"Oh, yes, Madame!" Valeria said.

I tightened my brow. Prepared? "Did you expect me? Did you know I was coming?"

"Mr Wolfsblade is not a very spontaneous man," drawled Madame Yarrow. "He came here a fortnight ago, telling me he would bring a friend who needed our expertise. He paid half then, and half now."

"That was just _half_?!" I cried, suddenly horrified by the thought.

"Don't you worry, miss; money is only material," said the blonde, Valeria, with a smile. "What is real, is the _feeling_. You can have all money in the world, but you still cannot put a price on _that_."

"Valeria is right," Madame Yarrow said. "Imagine your feelings once you see your old self in the mirror again. _Then_, you'll consider that money quite unimportant, I promise you."

I had to remind myself that I had not left my room for weeks. How many, I did not know. I had not dared to see Garrett, because I was afraid of what he might think of me, looking like this. I had not dared to left my room, afraid of what the people of Bowerstone would say once they saw me. I had not been able to kiss Wolfsblade, even though the opportunity was staring me in the face, because I was afraid of what it would feel like to kiss someone like me. All that could go away. All those horrible feelings could disappear, if I accepted the Hero's generous gift. Perhaps it _would_ be worth it, in the end, even though it meant being somehow indebted to Wolfsblade? I then sighed heavily, and nodded. "You're right."

Madame Yarrow smiled and carefully walked me over to the table. "Lie down, Miss Ariana, and make yourself comfortable. Valeria, bring out the sage, the belladonna and the mushrooms."

While I sat down atop the hard, sheeted table, Valeria hurried away to gather the things Madame Yarrow told her to, and returned with her arms full. Madame Yarrow then proceeded by mixing the sage and mushrooms in a bowl and then pouring on hot water on the mix, after which she added a few drops of belladonna, and then filtered it through a fine cloth. The filtered, hot liquid was poured into a cup and given to me. "Drink this, Miss Ariana. It will take you away from here, from this world, for a moment or two, and when you return, you will be rid of these scars."

I hesitantly accepted the potion and gave Madame Yarrow one last look before I drank it, and at once, I could feel its effect, as warmth spread through my body, and everything that felt bad and difficult seemed to simply just vanish. As I lay down on the table—the table that I _knew _was hard wood, but somehow felt like a large feather cushion—my body was gone from my head, or my head was gone from my body. I did not know anything else than that I was, utterly and entirely, in a blissful, alien world I never wanted to leave.


	24. Chapter XXIII

**A/N: **I'm sorry for the wait, my loveliest readers, but I've had a lot on my plate this last week! AND (there's no point denying it..) I had this idea stuck in my head that I simply _had_ to get down on paper, and the result can be found here, on FF!

It's a short story about Captain Saker from Fable III, and it can be found on my page, named "**A Man Without Honour**". Check it out, if you dare! ;)

Oh well.. here's chapter twenty-three!

Enjoy!

* * *

******A Valiant Heart****  
**

**Chapter XXIII**

I heard soft humming. I felt someone stroke my hair. It was comfortable and it was soothing, and I did not want to wake up from it. The humming was sweet, and the touch on my hair was tender, and as I slowly opened my eyes, I could see the blonde woman, Valeria, look down on me with a smile.

"Welcome back, Miss Ariana," she said. "Did you have a nice time, far away?"

My mind was foggy, to say the least. My mouth was dry, and my body felt heavy. Suddenly, I realised where I was, and quickly brought my hands to my face. As I drove my fingers over the skin, my heart raced. No scars. They were gone. My lips felt normal, my left eye felt normal, my right cheek felt normal, my chin felt normal… I was me again. I tried to sit up, but my head spun terribly, and I had to lie back down.

"Is she back?" I could hear Madame Yarrow say.

"Yes, Madame," Valeria replied.

The dark lady appeared before my eyes, as her smile shone white against her ebony skin. "Welcome," she said. "Drink this." She held another bottle in her hand.

"What is it?" I croaked and looked at the small bottle.

"Goldenrod and arctic's root in boiled water," Madame Yarrow explained. "It will wake you up a bit, put your head straight."

I drank greedily, knowing at this point, that Madame Yarrow and Valeria certainly were witches of nature, and if I had trusted them so far, it would seem rather odd to stop at such a trivial thing as a quickening potion. It did not take long until I felt my limbs wake from their drowsiness, and soon enough, my head was as clear as day. I looked from Valeria to Madame Yarrow. "Can I see myself in a mirror?"

Valeria hurried away, only to return with a hand mirror and held it in front of me. I gasped as I saw who looked back. It was me. No scars, no deformed lips or split nose. I let my hands caress my new face, and I could neither cry nor laugh. I was far too moved, far too happy.

"You have beautiful features," said Madame Yarrow. "Luscious. Mature for your age, yet young and still curious of the world."

"You can tell that by my face?" I breathed and glanced up at the tall woman.

She smiled. "Yes. The face can tell more about a person than people think, if you know what to look for. You, for example, Miss Ariana, have a certain tint in your eyes, and a certain countenance in your face that speaks of innocence yet years of wisdom. You are not yet twenty, am I right? Not yet twenty, and have not been kissed, and yet you have the experience of a fierce warrior."

I was flabbergasted by her way of so easily determining my character without knowing anything about me but my name. In the end, the only reply I could give was, "I have been kissed."

"Oh?" Madame Yarrow seemed surprised. "Well, that must have been a rather weak kiss, then. You see, I can tell if a pair of lips has been kissed or not. Yours have not. At least not enough to give an impression."

There was a rather devious smirk on the dark woman's lips, and I blushed violently and looked away. Indeed, Garrett's kisses had not been as violent and passionate I had sometimes heard women talk of men's kisses, but his kisses were soft and gentle and sweet. He was a sensitive man with his heart at the right place, and did not need rough kisses to prove his feelings. Our last kiss had been passionate enough, and I was surprised that my lips did not speak of it.

"How do you feel?" Valeria asked softly.

I swallowed. "Surprisingly well."

"I believe our work here is done, Valeria," said Madame Yarrow. She then offered me her hand to aid me to stand. "Even though we successfully burnt your scars away, they might return when you grow old, when your skin loses its luster and shine. But don't fret, they will not be as gruesome as they were. You might see traces of them, that is all. Nothing a little potion can't take care of."

Even though I had hoped for the change to be permanent, I could not deny the logic of the fact. And old age came with so much more than just the shadows of my past, it would hardly be the only fault.

I thanked them dearly, both Madame Yarrow and Valeria, for their services and wished them all luck in the world before I headed out in the cold. It had darkened, leaving the snow gleaming in a rich blue hue. A feeling of happiness and anticipation stirred in me as I walked through the snow, and I could not wait until I could show the Hero my new face. Or rather, my _old _face, but new nonetheless. Thinking that he might be at the Inn, I crossed the small town square and entered the small, austere tavern. The people inside looked curiously at me as I hesitantly walked further in. Wolfsblade was not there. With a sigh, I approached the bar. A heavy man stood behind it, polishing glasses. "Excuse me," said I politely and the man turned to me.

"What can I do for you, love?" he asked with a gentle smile.

"I'm looking for a man," I started, not knowing how to describe him. Tall? Muscular? Cruel-looking? Handsome? Surely, if I said he looked as if he could break a man's skull with his bare hands, they would know him if they had seen him, but if not? Suddenly, I felt like a simpleton. He was the Hero. The _Hero_. All of Albion knew who he was, for Avo's sake! I sighed and smiled. "I am looking for Mr Wolfsblade. Is he here?"

"He was," said the bartender. "The Hero graced us with his presence for about half an hour, before he left with a drunkard. They were going to look at boats, or something."

I was slightly disappointed, but thanked for the man's help and left the Inn to wander back towards the docks. If the Hero left with a drunkard to look at some _boats _they must have gone to the docks. I did not quite understand why Wolfsblade would leave with a drunkard in the first place, but then again, I did not know the man through and through.

Suddenly, I heard a barking, and I froze in place. A part of me dreaded it to be a Balverine, though I knew Balverines did not bark, and then, in the whirling snow, I could see a figure rush towards me. In the dark, I could not make it out, but as it came closer, I could see the gentle eyes of the huge, black dog I once had known. Shadow. He barely had the time to stop as he shrunk down when he arrived at my feet, his tail wiggling uncontrollably. He rubbed against my legs with his head and whimpered while ecstatically tapping his paws to the ground.

"Is that really you, boy?" I breathed as I kneeled to pet the happy dog. He licked my face before he threw himself onto his back and wanted me to rub his belly. It was all so very strange; Shadow had died, and yet, here he was, very much alive.

"I told you this island was full of magic." Wolfsblade's voice startled both me and the dog, and the both of us rose to our feet. The Hero stood half in the dark and half in the fade light from the village torches, but his steel eyes were luminous. I was suddenly speechless, and I felt how the blood rushed to my cheeks. He stepped into the light and a soft smile spread across his lips. "Now, didn't I tell you not to be afraid?" he asked as he carefully took my chin in his hand to examine my face. "And I who thought you beautiful _with _the scars… now, you look divine."

Though shamefully transfixed by him, I forced myself to look away. "Thank you," I whispered.

He chuckled. "You must be positively starving! Come, let's eat."

He offered me his arm, and I took it, and together we walked back to the Inn. Shadow trotted along, as if he had never been away, and I tightened my brows. "But how… how is Shadow alive?"

"I met a man earlier today," Wolfsblade said, "that told me of a place on Knothole Island that could bring back animals close to you. I didn't believe him at first, and asked the man to show me, and as it turns out, he was very right."

Nodding, I remained silent for the rest of the way back to the Inn. The friendly bartender greeted us as we entered, and offered us a free meal. The Hero insisted on paying—a few coins would not make any difference to him—and we were then seated and served a lovely hot soup with freshly baked bread. I _was _positively starving, and wolfed the soup in less than ten minutes. Shadow lay huddled by our feet underneath the table, begging for food once in a while, and when the Hero was not looking, I snuck pieces of breath to the dog.

Wolfsblade chuckled as he watched me finish my bowl of soup. "I don't think I've ever seen a woman eat something that fast. Not even Hammer."

Feeling slightly embarrassed, I looked down onto my lap. "Forgive my manners. I haven't eaten since yesterday."

"Oh, I know," he chuckled. "It was meant as a compliment, Ariana. I've always thought it ridiculous that women have to be so neat and elegant when men can do as they like. Rules for all or rules for no one." He took a rich sip of the ale he had ordered, and then continued eating his own soup.

I observed him for a moment. He was as he had always been, and yet, there was something different about him. Surely, I could tell by the way he moved, the way he spoke, that his beloved Shadow had come back to him, but there was something else there, as well, something I could not make out. I suddenly realised I did not know the Hero, at all. I knew nothing of his childhood, nothing of the years before he became Wolfsblade. What was his real name? Was it Sparrow?

I must have been staring, for the man himself looked up at me, and was surprised. "Is something wrong, Ariana?"

I was startled, as if waking from a daze. "N-no… no, it's all quite alright. Forgive me, but… may I ask you what your real name is?"

At first, he seemed puzzled, but then he sighed. "Well, it's no secret I called myself Sparrow before taking the name of Wolfsblade." He took another sip of his ale, emptying the cup, and ordered another one. "But I wouldn't call the one equivalent to the other." A barmaid served him his drink, and he took another sip and looked at me, his steel eyes piercing. "Why?"

I searched for words to say, but the words betrayed me. I once again lowered my head. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't call me 'sir'," he muttered. "All my life, I've hated that title. Only a man afraid of losing his power to someone else allows others to call him 'sir'. It's degrading to oneself to call another person 'sir'! I respect it as a way of showing respect to one's elders. Do you see me as an elder?"

I could not keep from giggling a bit. "Well, _sir_, you do have a few years on your neck."

He acted offended. "I am a man in his prime!" he scoffed. "And I won't stand having little girls telling me otherwise." It was a challenge there, but a friendly one.

I smirked as I leaned back with my cup of mulled wine in hand. "Well, I'm sorry, _sir_, but I couldn't care less."

He looked at me for a moment in silence. His countenance was unreadable, but after a while, he slowly shook his head as a smile spread across his lips. "There's something special about you, Ariana the Tailor's daughter. No one would ever dare to talk back to me as you do—_all the time_!"

I felt my cheeks flush, and looked away. "Perhaps it's the wine."

"It's not the wine," he chuckled. "Perhaps the…_ positive_ tone you have tonight is because of the wine, but otherwise… no, that's just you."

My heard raced. This man had certainly told me of his esteem, several times, but I had never listened. Not really. But I was so uncertain of my own feelings, I could not help but to feel smitten by his flattering. I had told myself, many times, that I could not fall for the Hero. That would be devastating for me, for my independence, for my cause. I simply could not fall in love with the Hero. But there were so many things, so many incidents, that had made me slowly come around. I swallowed. "Are we—when are we going back to the mainland?"

"Well," he sighed, "that's all your decision. We could go tonight, or we could stay for as long as you'd like."

I looked up at him. "For as long as I'd like? Why—I don't—why would I want to stay?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "You wanted to go away, did you not? Normally, 'going away' means being away for more than a day. Or am I wrong? Then again, you have your face back, so returning shouldn't be so terrible."

Thinking about going back, facing all the people I had left out for so long, I felt heavy and anxious. "No, it _shouldn't_. But what it if is?"

"Then we could stay here," he said softly, but decisively. "Until you feel ready."

"No," I sighed. "I've wasted your time for far too long."

The Hero chuckled. "Wasted? By Avo, woman! I thought I'd made it clear that I enjoy spending time with you? You will never be a waste of my time."

"Did you mean it?" I suddenly asked, as a sudden thought popped into mind. "About what you said before? About… about my scars?" My heart beat faster. I did not know why I asked him, and I was not sure what answer I wanted to hear. But it was out there, in the open, and he sat looking at me rather surprisedly. "Did you really think me… _beautiful _with them?"

"Yes," he answered, determinedly. "You will always look beautiful to me."

"But… _how_?! I looked like a monster!"

He rolled his eyes. "According to yourself, you did! Ariana, stop victimising yourself! You are one of the handsomest women I know, and trust me when I tell you that I've seen a fair share of handsome women in my life. Do I have to shower you with compliments each time we speak to make you understand that?"

I did not know what to answer him, and looked away. I was reluctant to believe I really _was _one of the handsomest women he had seen, since I knew there to be an awfully lot of women that were prettier than me. But I had never cared about looks. I had always known I was plain, nothing special, and had never strived to be anything different, either. But hearing someone like Wolfsblade, someone as acquainted with women, with beauty and with physical intimacy that only pretty people were said to experience, was frustrating when I did not believe him. I _wanted _to believe him, but I could not. How could I, when no man but Garrett and Wolfsblade had told me so? When all I had heard, from my mother, from my friends, from my acquaintances, was that I was a plain Jane? Garrett was different from Wolfsblade; he saw beauty in other things than people traditionally did. He saw beauty in values, in feelings, in dreams, while others defined beauty as how you wore your hair or how gracious you were. Wolfsblade, however, I would imagine, had a different view about beauty. Given his rather dishonourable reputation, I could not see how beauty to him would be something philosophical rather than physical.

The Hero chuckled a moment through my silence, and I looked up. "Come now, Ariana," he said softly, "I didn't mean to embarrass you." He then tightened his brows and brought a hand to the beard on his chin. "You're a strange sort of creature. Fierce when it comes to words, opinions and weapons, anything you can hide behind, be it a mask or be it a bar, but shy like a deer when it comes to other matters. Why?"

"I… I don't know," I whispered. I stared down my cup of mulled wine. "I suppose I haven't been needing confidence to other matters before."

"Perhaps confidence is exactly what you need?" the Hero suggested. "More wine over here!"

His demand startled me, and as the barmaid brought us a jug of wine, I was a bit confused, but perhaps he was right? Perhaps confidence was exactly what I needed? So I finished my mulled wine, and then drank from the new wine. It only took me another cup to feel the effect, and in the end, when the Inn was filled, and people around us were talking and drinking and laughing and singing, I felt calm. I felt content.

As always, the Hero attracted a crowd, and soon enough there were plenty of people around our table, and in the cold winter's night, this was most certainly what the people of Knothole Island needed. A bard was playing his lute and singing songs the rest of the party could easily sing along to, and after another cup of wine, I dared to raise my voice and sing along as well.

I had a jolly good time, and we sat together into the wee hours, and when dawn approached, I was tired but very happy. The Inn started to empty, and Wolfsblade suggested that we should have ourselves a couple of hours' sleep before we headed back to Bowerstone, and I could not agree more. The Hero paid for a room each, and since I had had a bit to drink, he was kind enough to escort me to mine.

By the door, I stopped to look at him. "Thank you,_ sir_."

He chuckled. "I won't escape that now, will I?"

Giggling, I shook my head. "Anything to displease you."

"Yes," he sighed, "that's you."

Was it the wine? Was it the happiness that was twirling around in my body? I did not know, but I reached a hand to his face and caressed it slowly. "I don't know how to thank you, Mr Wolfsblade, for _everything_. My mother was right; I _am _ungrateful!"

He was silent for a moment, before his hand clutch around mine to keep it on his face. "Seeing you smile is enough, Miss Ariana."

I wanted him close to me, I wanted to feel the warmth from his broad frame, so I carefully pressed myself closer, and his hand left my hand for my waist. "It doesn't feel enough. You have saved my _life_, several times. How can I _ever _repay that?!" I was bolder than I had ever been as I slowly let my fingers trace his lips, and I knew, for once, what I really wanted. It was so clear now, even though my mind was slightly foggy.

But for the first time since I met the Hero, he looked positively devastated. "Ariana, you should get some sleep. When you wake up, things will feel different, and it will be you speaking, not the wine."

"It's not the wine saying it," I mumbled. "It's the wine allowing it; kiss me." I reached up to him, but he pushed me back, gently put decisively.

"No," he said, sternly.

I was suddenly uncertain. My cheeks flushed violently, and I pulled my hand away from his face. "But… I thought… why?"

"Because I know you don't really want that," he muttered. "Tomorrow, you will be thankful for it. Good night, Miss Ariana." He took my hand in his and kissed it gently, before he left me.

I was shocked, to say the least. We had been close so many times, it was bound to happen, and now… my head was spinning terribly. Perhaps I needed some sleep, after all, so sleep all of this away.


	25. Chapter XXIV

**A/N: **Dearest readers! I hope you're all well! I'm very well! It's summer in Sweden (YAAY!) and I am at home now, where the sun doesn't set at nights, so it's practically daylight for 24 hours.. but enough talking about ridiculous light! Thank you all for your reviews, favs and alerts!

Here's chapter twenty-four, and I hope you all like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XXIV**

Waking up after consuming more wine than I was used to, was a terrible ordeal. I had a horrible headache, and my belly felt ungrateful, and even though I was hungry, the thought of food sickened me. But the feeling that was worse, was the knowledge that I had been foolish, extremely foolish, by asking the Hero to kiss me. What was I thinking? Of course, I could not have been thinking, at all, for if I did, I would be sensible enough to refrain. Perhaps it was all because of the wine? Surely, I had felt content under the influence of the rich, red drink, but without it, I would never have to endure such awkwardness.

It was not without shame I walked down the stairs to the tavern, which was rather empty at this hour. It was just before lunch, I was told by a barmaid, and was then offered some fine breakfast.

"No, thank you," I replied politely.

"You should eat." I did not see Wolfsblade as I walked down the stairs, but his voice carried across the room, and as I spun around, I saw him sitting by a table, eating breakfast. Shadow lay at his feet, and wiggled his tail upon seeing me. "Come, sit. Eat." He pushed a plate filled with bread, pork, cheese and salmon to the opposite side of him.

With a sigh, I walked to sit by him. "I'm not hungry, or rather… I can't eat."

"Oh, I know the feeling," said he as he slid over a small flask to me. "Whenever I'm in Knothole, I make sure to refill my stock."

I glanced at the small flask. It resembled the potion I was given by Madame Yarrow when I woke up. "What is it?"

"Don't know," Wolfsblade shrugged, "but it works. I had Valeria make it for me. She's not as skilled as Yarrow, _yet_, but makes tolerable potions. Take it. You will feel better."

I did as told and swallowed the liquid. It tasted close to nothing, and within seconds, I felt my headache starting to fade. "It really _does _work…"

The Hero chuckled. "You seem surprised. Is that really necessary after yesterday?"

I smiled half-heartedly. I could barely look at the man out of shame. "No, perhaps not."

"Did you sleep well?" he asked with a sigh.

"Yes, I did," I answered. "I believe sleep was what I needed."

"I'm glad to hear it, because you are going to sleep another night in that bed."

I looked up at him, and he seemed rather apologetic. "What do you mean? I thought we were going back today?"

"Yes," he nodded, "but I just got news that a storm's coming. The submarine isn't strong enough to withhold such currents, so if we're unlucky, we could end up in the middle of the sea going west."

Slowly, I nodded. "So, we stay?"

"So we stay." He smiled softly. "But at least you got away for a while, eh?"

I smiled. "Yes, luckily. I wouldn't have made it one more night locked in that room, no matter how damaged my face would be."

"You did that all by yourself," the Hero reminded me. "No one asked you to seclude yourself from the world."

I sighed as I took a bite of the bread on my plate. "It was either that or being ridiculed by the whole city."

"Or," he pushed, "you could have been celebrated as a heroine, for saving your brother and countless of others. You don't know that." He leaned back against the back of his chair, a cup of warm ale in his hand. "Perhaps, you'd have won the election."

I scoffed. "Oh please, Mr Wolfsblade! Spare me your pity! No one would vote for a monster."

"Ariana, you didn't look like a monster!" he almost barked as he leaned forward again. "They didn't see you like that! Everywhere around the city, they talked of your bravery. You have no idea how much anger I had to receive from the people; they all wondered where in Avo's name _I _was when that Balverine attacked you. They all wondered why I let an _innocent girl _be mutilated, instead of myself. While spitting on me, they glorified you."

I was shocked, but as so many times before, a defence mechanism activated inside of me, and I huffed. "Well then, that explains it," I said.

"Explains what?" he drawled.

"Why you would spend so much money on me," I continued, even though I knew it was far from fair of me to say such things.

There was a muscle in his jaw that flexed violently as the Hero's face turned dark and almost threatening. "Eat your breakfast, Miss Ariana."

Our conversation ended rather abruptly, and I spent the rest of the time regretting what I had said, and even though my conscience told me to apologise to the man, my pride prevented me from it.

When the Hero had finished, he rose from the table and told me he was going out hunting for some game for the Inn-keeper. He then encouraged me to explore the village, but I did not feel for exploring the village—I wanted to explore the woods.

"May I come with you?" I hurriedly asked.

He seemed rather troubled by this. "Miss Ariana, you are aware of the fact that there are plenty of Balverines in these woods?"

I swallowed as I nodded. "Yes sir, I know that."

"You have neither your pistol nor your sword with you," he continued.

I nodded, looking away as blood flushed to my cheeks. "I know that."

"So you obviously should not come." he said, his words rather final. He did not want me to come with him, that much was evident.

"Well, I…" Suddenly, I found myself without reason. I could not explain to him why I wanted to come with him. Why did I? Because I was in no mood for walking about the village? Would that reason be sufficient, or would it seem rather arrogant? I sighed. "I… well, I thought you might enjoy the company?"

He was silent for a while. I did not see his face, and was rather startled when he finally spoke. "Get your coat."

I almost lost my tongue as I looked up at him. "Yes… it's—I just have to rush upstairs to get it. But please don't—"

"Well, hurry along, then!" he sighed.

To not let him wait for far too long, I shot up from my seat and hurried upstairs. My heart was pounding violently against my chest and I did not know what I had gotten myself into and why. There would most certainly be plenty of Balverines in these woods, so why did I suggest coming with him? Then again, I could not fear the beasts for the rest of my life, and the only way to reconcile with myself and my fears was to actually face this beast one again. When I returned downstairs, the Hero was waiting for me by the door, leaning against the frame.

"You'll freeze out there," he said, but I contradicted him.

"No, I won't," I said, straightening my back. "This is warmer than it looks; it's pure wool."

The Hero smirked. "Yes, well, wool might be sufficient in the mainland, but here, it's just as useless as cotton against the cold winds."

But I stood decided. I would not let his remarks change my mind. "I will be perfectly fine, thank you." At least Shadow seemed happy I would come with them, as the big, black dog wiggled his tail vigorously.

"Very well, then," Wolfsblade said as he opened the door. A chilling howl of the wind was heard outside. The Hero bowed. "After you, my lady."

I knew he was mocking me, but I would not let him win. I had decided. "You might be surprised, Mr Wolfsblade, by my resistance towards cold." I then strode past him, with Shadow by my side, and the Hero chuckled as he closed the door. "You find this amusing?" I asked him as we started walking towards the woods.

"Yes," he admitted. "Quite so. I cannot deny the curiosity of how you will react once we've walked far enough from the village, and you start to shudder."

"Well, I won't," I said stubbornly. "You just watch me."

"Oh, I will." He was teasing me, and even though I had to admit that it was rather cold, and that there was no logical reason to why I begged to come along, I would not yield. The Hero would not win this time. I was already enough humiliated from last night, and I would not let him humiliate me again.

I walked ahead of him, even though I did not know where we were going, but Wolfsblade kept telling me left or right and sooner than expected, we had wandered far from the safety of the village. I looked back at the Hero. "Where are we going?"

"Just a bit further up, there's a clearing," he said. "It's a fantastic spot for rabbit hunting, and even an occasional deer." The Hero then walked past me. "Are you still warm enough?"

"Yes!" I spat. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm perfectly fine."

"Well, that's good," he said further ahead as he came to a halt. "Because now, we wait."

As I joined him, we were indeed facing a clearing, a white, glistering clearing, and the Hero sank to the ground, leaning against a tree. I hesitated, knowing it would not be very clever of me to sit down on the cold ground. But the Hero rolled his eyes as he opened his coat to let the one side land on the ground next to him.

"Sit down, Ariana," he muttered, pointing at his coat. "We could be here for a while."

Sighing deeply, I carefully sat down on his coat, as far away from him as the piece of leather allowed. "So, this is it, then?"

He nodded. "This is it."

I sighed again as I pulled my knees to my chin and wrapped my robe and arms around them. "Why are you hunting for the Inn-keeper?"

"Because I can," the Hero shrugged. "So why shouldn't I?"

"Do you do it often?" I asked.

He chuckled as he turned his head to me. "Why are you so curious?"

"I am trying to figure you out, Mr Wolfsblade," I muttered. "You have a keen interest in providing people with things they need, haven't you?"

He smiled. "Well, I consider that as a compliment. I am flattered."

"It wasn't a compliment," said I. "It was my way of asking what you were getting out of it. Do not pretend like you do things without a hidden agenda, Mr Wolfsblade. I know you better than that."

He scoffed. "A hidden agenda? Is it really that hard to believe that I can do things without wanting anything in return?"

"Yes," I said and looked away. "You're not like that. You are a debt collector. You do favours you know the people you do them for can't pay back. They are thus indebted to you their entire lives. You can call out favours whenever you'd like in this way, and the people can't refuse, since they are trying to repay you."

The Hero did not reply, but I felt his gaze on me. I turned my head to him and saw his cold, steel eyes bore through mine, his jaw so clenched, his face was squared. "This is how you _want _to see me, is it not, Miss Ariana?" he grolwed lowly. "It won't matter what I do for you, will it? You will still despise me, hate me. In your eyes, I will always be a monster. Strange, when you so desperately wanted me to kiss you last night."

I felt my cheeks redden, but I did not look away. Instead, I folded my arms. "I wasn't desperate. I—I wasn't even serious."

Wolfsblade huffed and leaned slightly closer. "No? You seemed rather serious at the time."

I opened my mouth to give him a sharp retort, but the words abandoned me. My cheeks reddened even more, and his sudden closeness caused my heart to race.

He leaned a bit closer, his face now dangerously close to mine. "Or perhaps, you just wanted to know what it would feel like being kissed by a man?"

I was stunned by his smug face and by his seductive tone, but I gathered enough strength to look away. "I know what that feels like, thank you very much."

"Oh yes, that's right," he drawled and sat back up. "Garrett. Although… I would not see him as a man."

"He is four and twenty," I muttered. "He isn't a boy."

"Aye, that may be a man's _age_," the Hero persisted, "but that doesn't make him a man. Action does."

"If actions made the man, you'd be no man," I spat and glared at him. "You'd be a pig."

He glared back, dark shadows playing across his steel irises. "That's a new way of showing gratitude, Miss Ariana." There was something threatening in his glare, in his voice, and especially in the following pause, in the silence that hovered above us.

I could not reply and looked away. I huddled together even more, and decided that I would not talk to the man again while being out here. No word that would come out of my mouth could make it any better.

We sat in silence for a long time. The only one of us that had moved, was Shadow, who had roamed around the woods, hunting on his own. The wind howled in the trees, and I shuddered violently. The wind was indeed penetrating my woollen coat to the point where I could no longer feel my arms that was wrapped around my legs, but I said nothing. I did not want him to be self-righteous.

But I did not have to speak, as he suddenly pulled me closer to him, to wrap his coat around us both. "I told you wool was useless in this weather," he muttered as his arm was forcefully wrapped around me, together with his leather coat. I did not want to admit it, but I was relieved by his warmth. I even—though as subtly as I could—pressed myself closer to him, so that more of his coat could cover me. He noticed it, and tightened his hold of me. I felt his steady breaths, felt his scent, and my heart raced. I felt like a little girl in his arms, pathetic and small, but I could not deny my desire to be even closer, to have both his arms around me, to know that he would not let me go.

We sat like that for another long moment. Perhaps an hour or two. It had darkened, and there were no rabbits, no deer and no Balverines. In the end, the Hero sighed deeply. "We might as well head back, before it gets all too dark." His arm disappeared from me, creating a shrieking cold where it had been. "Come, Miss Ariana, let's go back."

I rose from the ground, freezing after being so warm next to the Hero. "What will the Inn-keeper say when you return empty-handed?"

"He won't say a word, or I will cut his head off," he muttered. "Shadow!"

Hearing the man call for his dog, brought me back to when I first saw him, that day in Old Town, when he had marched up to us, his stature so intimidating and proud, and I suddenly found myself comparing the man I then saw from the man I knew now. So much had change, yet so much were still the same. If I had known then, what the two of us would go through, what feelings that would rage between us, I would never have introduced myself. I would have gone inside and kept as far away from the man as possible. But that was all too late now.

We walked back, both of us quiet, but I could sense a frustration coming from the Hero. He wanted to yell at me, _that_ I could feel. He wanted to scold me, to spill out his anger at me, but he kept it in. It was not until we could see the lights from the village, that he decided to let it out. He grabbed my arm and spun me to face him, and I was afraid of what might come, but I was at least certain he would not hurt me; it he wanted that, he would not have waited until we were this close to other people.

"Ariana, before we go back, there's something we need to sort out," he growled. There was frustration in him that had been building up, most certainly ever since I suggested that actions would make him a pig, or perhaps even before that.

"What?" I asked. I tried to sound brave, but I did not do well.

"What is this?" he suddenly asked. "What is it that we're doing?"

"I don't understand what—"

"You _know _what I'm talking about!" he growled as he grabbed my other arm and pulled me closer. "I need to know what in Skorm's name we're doing!" His face was twisted into a furious scowl, and his grip around my arms was strong, painful even. I did not know what to answer, for I truly did not know what we _were _doing, but he dragged me even closer, forcing me to almost clash into his chest. Our faces were close, and I could feel his heavy, frustrated breath on my lips, and I felt a tingle in my belly. Would I have to fight my own urges every time the Hero and I clashed together? Or, perhaps, the battle was already lost? Before I knew it, I rose to my toes to press my lips against his.

Something exploded inside of me, a desire I did not know I had bottled up, and Wolfsblade seemed just as frantic. His arms tightened around my waist, pulling me as close to him as possible, and as soon as my arms were free from his grip, I locked them around his neck. It was something I had never experienced before, feeling his lips move so passionately against mine, our breaths heavy in each other's mouths. Our tongues met in a shared desire and danced around each other as if doing so was the most natural thing in the world. I could taste his desire, taste his longing, and when our lips parted, I let out a small noise, pathetic in its existence, but a proof of the pleasure I had felt in this surprise. Our breaths gathered around us like clouds in the cold, and we looked at each other.

"So that's what it feels like, kissing you?" I breathed.

He brought a hand to my face and caressed it gently. "That's what it feels like." We were not apart for long before he kissed me again, and let his lips trace my jaw, my throat and down to my collarbones. He pulled me up so I was standing on the tip of my toes while he kissed my collarbone, and gently nibbled it with his teeth, and he kept on kissing me, kept on leaving burning traces from his fiery lips. I gasped as he kissed the sensitive skin right below my earlobe. "I want you," he hissed in my ear, and a shiver ran through me. He wanted me. _He wanted me_. "I want all of you."

I gasped slightly before I forced him away from me. "We can't! We—we can't. Not here, not now!"

His jaw was tightened, but he nodded. "You're right. Not here, not now."

I looked into his eyes for something I could understand, something that was not an enigma to me, but all I saw, was the same burning desire that I felt. So I looked away. "Let's… let's go inside. It's cold and we need some food. So we can think straight."

"So we can think straight," he mimicked and followed my suggestion, and we continued back to the village and the Inn, but thinking straight was not something I would be able to do for a long time, not with the taste of him still fresh in my memory, and on my lips.


	26. Chapter XXV

**A/N: **Hello, my dear readers! I thank you all for your wonderful reviews! :D Yes, it finally happened. But we all knew it would, sooner or later, right? ;) Anyways, here's the new chapter, and I hope you like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XXV**

I could feel his eyes on me throughout the supper, even though we once again were joined by countless of people. I blushed again and again, hoping and praying no one from our party would notice, but the Hero certainly did. There was a new hunger to his look, and every time I stole a glance, his eyes were positively ravishing me from across the table. When the time had come for the people to leave and for us to retire to our rooms, Wolfsblade caught up with me by my door, and before I had the time to open it, he had spun me around to clash his lips onto mine. I was surprised by the ferocity in his kiss, and it was most certainly the effect of the many pints of ale he had had during supper. But I could not deny the pleasurable shivers that he sent through me as his hands and lips roamed free over my body. He made me feel things, things I had never felt before, things I might have been afraid to feel, but I knew what he wanted. I knew what his hunger suggested, and I had to stop him. My hands landed on his chest, and I pushed him away, but succeeded on moving him only slightly.

He kept his lips brushing against mine. "One kiss is casual," he said huskily. "Two could be subtle desire, but three… that's an invitation, Ariana."

"You wouldn't do this to me until I was ready," I whispered, but it was more of a wish than a fact. I had seen him with women, how he sometimes would push them to be with him since he knew they would not resist him. I still remembered very clearly that night when I was just a little girl, and I watched the Hero destroy the tavern and bring several girls with him. They did not seem very eager to follow the very violent Hero, but they had no choice. So would I? "Would you?"

"No," he breathed against my lips before he kissed me again. "But Ariana… this is what I've waited for, for _months_." He pressed himself closer to me, his hands resting against the door behind me. "You have invited me, have you not?"

I was certainly transfixed by his bold way, as I was sure any woman would be, but I was also surprised and a bit frightened by this entirely new side of him. Had he been polite and gentlemanlike to me before, only to lure me in? The thought was not impossible, given his persona, but I wished it not to be. I wished this was only because of his intoxication and not because the Hero and I had taken our relationship one step further. Was that what we had? A relationship? A few months ago, that thought would have been absolutely dreadful, but now… now, things were different. But was it different enough for such intimacy as he required? His lips played over my skin, resting for a bit on the nape of my neck. I breathed rapidly, uncertain of what to tell him, but eventually, when I noticed how his hand rested on the knob of my door, slowly gripping it as to open it, I forced him away again. "Please, Mr Wolfsblade," I begged, "this is neither the place, nor the time!"

"When is it then?" he asked, surprisingly aggressive, and it caused me to gasp slightly, out of spite and shock.

"What do you mean?" I cried and tightened my brows.

"When we return?" replied he, ignoring my question. "When you've convinced yourself that all of this was just an accident? When you're back with your _precious _Garrett?!"

"What's the _matter _with you?!" I cried again as I forcefully pushed him away, causing him to stumble backwards. "You're nothing but a drunken, hateful man!" I hurried inside my room and closed the door the second I saw the Hero lunge for it, and I turned the lock before the man could tear it open.

"_Ariana, open up_," he called from the other side, surprisingly calm. "_Ariana, there is no point in keeping it locked; you know I can tear it open in a heartbeat._"

But I did not unlock it. Surely, he would be clever enough to leave me be. But I could hear him sigh deeply from the other side. "Go away, Mr Wolfsblade. You're drunk. Get some sleep, and we'll speak in the morning."

"_Open the door, Ariana_," he persisted, and I could clearly hear how he was getting more and more agitated.

"No, I—" But the doorknob turned violently, and the door sprung open, and I gasped loudly and stumbled backwards as the Hero strode right into the room. "What are you doing? Are you mad?!"

But the Hero seemed rather serious as he closed the door. Was he even drunk at all? "I'm not hard man to work out, Ariana. On the contrary I'm rather simple. I don't like people playing games with me, and if they do, I always make sure to win. I'm jealous by nature, but am most of the times confident that jealousy is unnecessary. I'm vengeful and sometimes even spiteful, but you know that. You also know I'm rather persistent. I have faults, Miss, faults that can sometimes display rather viciously. But the faults are mine, and they are me." He slowly walked to the small writing desk and leaned against it, crossing his feet casually. "I need to know if this… game we have will continue when we get back, or if it ends here. No matter what, I will win."

My heart hammered against my chest, as his words were slowly sinking into my mind. There he was, the man who had so viciously threatened Scarlet Rogue, but been completely hidden to Ariana the Tailor's daughter. But now he was out, and the Hero was showing his true self. "Y-you said you would… wait, until I was ready?" I challenged. Even though I stumbled on my words, I felt confident. I knew he cared deeply for me, and I even believed it to be deep enough to keep from hurting me. Perhaps I was naive, perhaps I was foolish, but if he wanted to take me by force, he had had plenty of chances already.

But a smirk spread across his face. "There are many ways in which a woman can be ready for a man."

I swallowed hard. It was the first time in a long time I had felt afraid of the Hero without the mask, when I had felt truly threatened. But I straightened. "Then you will have to take me by force, Mr Wolfsblade, for I will not yield, no matter what you say."

He kept his steel eyes on me, long and hard, before he shook his head. "I won't do that."

"Then what if I say that it ends here? Because frankly, I would not want to be involved with a person as possessive as yourself." I crossed my arms and waited for his reply.

"Then I would have you, tonight," said he.

I raised my brows. "But you wouldn't take me by force, you said."

"It won't be by force," he replied as he shrugged his shoulders. "Clearly, you underestimate the power of experience." He rose from the desk and walked slowly towards me. I backed against the wall, and felt my face drain as he stood only inches away. "Women are by nature difficult creatures, and you are by far the most difficult woman I have ever met. But there are ways in which you don't differ from other women, Miss Ariana, and trust me; I know them all." Slowly, he kissed me, and even though I cursed myself for it, it felt just as good as all the other times. I desired him just as much as I had the first time we kissed, and I was just as transfixed by him, but I was also fully aware of what he was trying to do, and that knowledge, that insight, brought a pain I knew would surface. I had seen it, far too many times, in women he had had his way with and then tossed away as if worthless. Nelly was my first recollection.

I gathered my strength and pushed him away. "I thought you were more honourable than that!" I hissed. The tears were not far away, and my voice would barely hold. I had no chance against the man, and was completely left in his mercy. "I guess I was mistaken." My hands trembled, and the tears burned in my eyes as I violently unlaced the front of my dress. "Have it your way, then, Mr Wolfsblade, Mr _Hero_! Take what you came for, claim your prize!" I sobbed and hiccupped as I furiously slid the dress off my body, leaving me only in my petticoat. "T-take what you c-came for, and b-be done with it!" I reached for the lace at my bosom, my tears spilling unstoppably, but the Hero swiftly grabbed hold of my hands and pulled me to him.

"No!" he breathed. "Stop it, Ariana!"

"But this is what you want, is it not?!" My voice broke as I looked up at him through the tears, but he shook his head and pulled my head to his chest.

"You torment me!" he growled, but his hold was tender as he wrapped his arms around me and let me cry.

For some rather curious reason, it felt as if a heavy weight disappeared from my shoulders, as if a reasonably good cry was exactly what I needed. All the tension disappeared, and after what felt like an eternity, I had stopped both sobbing and trembling. Wolfsblade held me safely and steadily, as he slowly caressed my back. I sighed raggedly as I looked up. "I hate you for making me cry."

A soft smile spread across his face, but the smile was short lived and rather troublesome. He brought a hand to my face and caressed it with his thumb. "Forgive me." There seemed to be a struggle inside of him, and then he sighed. "It was… wrong of me, to pressure you into anything." He clenched his jaw, dissatisfied with either himself or me. I could not tell which. His thumb landed on my lips, and his brows tightened in a miserable scowl. "I don't think you realise what you do to me, Ariana. You bring out the best in me, and the worst, and you torment me beyond sanity." Yearningly, he leaned towards me, his lips brushing against mine. "Tell me you don't feel anything for me. Tell me now, and I'll leave."

Despairingly, I shook my head. I could not deny my feelings for the man, but they all had counterparts, and they were waging war inside of me. But my feelings for him, good as bad, were plentiful. "Don't leave. Please, stay with me."

He seemed surprised, shocked almost, and for the first time, I thought I saw a light shade of pink play over the Hero's cheeks. "You… do you really mean it?"

I nodded as I slowly pressed my lips against his. "Yes, stay."

Wolfsblade huffed surprisedly before kissing me again. I had not yet forgiven him for being as imprudent as he was, nor had I forgiven him for being as threatening as he was, but I knew myself well enough to know that it would do me no good being upset with him. And by Avo, did I love his kisses! It was, if anything, evident that he had vastly more experience than me, and in a sense, that was rather unnerving. But I could not blame him for it; the fault was mine and mine alone. I had kept away from men, afraid I would be seen just as all the other girls in Bowerstone were seen, and Garrett had been the first one I felt confident enough with to kiss.

Suddenly, my heart ached. _Garrett_. What was I to do with Garrett? Aghast by the realisation, I pulled away from the Hero and stared affrightedly at him. I wanted to tell him something, make him understand what difficulties I faced, but I could do nothing but to sigh deeply and frown. I crossed my arms and sat down on my bed. "I don't know what to do. I… a year ago, I wouldn't really tickle anyone's fancy. But then you came along, and then Garrett, and now…"

The Hero sighed heavily as he carefully sat down next to me. "I'll go. You clearly have some thinking to do before we head back, and you'd better do that alone."

Relief spread through my body, as well as disappointment. The thought of sleeping in the Hero's arms was a rather attractive thought, but he was right. If we were going back tomorrow, I would have very little time thinking about what to do once we reached the shores of the mainland, and thinking about it whilst in the arms of the Hero would not be contributing to any positive thoughts on Garrett's behalf. The Hero would thus have an unfair advantage, and though I was certain he had figured that out, he still left on his own accord.

He begged me for one last kiss before he left, and so we kissed, one last time, before he said goodnight and left the room. A strange emptiness replaced his presence, and I felt a daunting cold and loneliness settle over me. Perhaps I had grown too accustomed to his warmth on these few but intimate occasions, but I tried to convince myself that my feelings were only physical. Surely, Wolfsblade did not match me on a philosophical level, with ideals and dreams and ambitions, and how could I render my love and myself to someone who was not my twin soul? Then, of course, the physical attraction I had for the Hero overshadowed the physical attraction I had for Garrett by tenfold, and how could I be with a man when I physically yearned for another? I did find Garrett handsome, that was not the problem. He was handsome, in a different manner than Wolfsblade, and had features that the Hero had not. His blue eyes, for a start, were mesmerising. The Hero's steel eyes were beautiful, yes, and mysterious and dangerous, but Garrett's came with promises and somehow always succeeded to convince me that it would all be alright, that there was hope. His size was much more sympathetic for me than the Hero's, and he would not be able to mock me for being small and weak. On the contrary, his size would make us equal, as equal as men and women could be.

However, Wolfsblade's handsomeness spoke of bravery and experience, and I could not deny the attraction of the man's ruggedness. Besides, had been very generous in his opinions of equality. The subject did not frighten him, and neither did the thought of strong women. Though, I knew he was very well aware of the fact that no woman would ever be equal to him, unless she was a Hero, herself. It was a fact that was acknowledged by every person that had ever heard of or seen the Hero, and denying it would be foolish. So no matter how hard I trained, I would never be physically equal to him. He knew that, and could therefore boast all he wanted about how he supported equality, since he knew he would be superior to everyone anyway.

The second my spiteful feelings towards the Hero started to resurface, the reminder of his lips against mine made me yearn for him, and it frustrated me beyond sanity. I should feel the same way towards Garrett and his kisses, but I did not. Indeed, I did like them very much, and before the terrible attack, before I was injured, I did even think of him as a possible husband. In theory, that should not be changed. I was still the same person—after the Hero so gallantly yet sneakily bought my face back—and thus I should still feel the same way about the people I once held dear, but I could not deny the fact that I was a bit afraid. What if Garrett had moved on after I told him to go away that night he stood by my window? Had I driven him away? If I had, he certainly had not enough affection for me to stay, had he?

It took a long time before I finally drifted off to sleep, and not surprisingly, I dreamt of the Hero, and his kisses and passionate whispers, about his steel orbs and his affectionate caresses, and for a moment, when his calloused hand, as light as a feather, caressed my face, it felt so vivid, so real, that I shot my eyes open. But when his steel eyes still looked into mine in the candlelit dark, I gasped as I pulled away from him. What sorcery had he used on me?

But he hushed me and chuckled. "I didn't mean to frighten you, Ariana. I just wanted to show you something." He then reached his hand out for me. "And I think you'd like to see it."

I hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether or not I was still dreaming, before I placed my hand in his and let him lead me out of bed. He then placed a blanket over my shoulders and told me to put my boots on, and once my feet were fitted into them, I let the Hero take my hand and lead me out of my room, down the stairs to the dark and empty tavern. I wanted to ask him where we were heading, but I never did. Instead, I followed him outside, and as we stepped out into the darkness, I felt the coldness bite in my skin. "It's cold," I hissed.

Wolfsblade pulled me to him, and held me tightly against him as he pointed towards the sky. "I thought you wanted to see this."

I looked up, and the vision that came before me was so magical, I could hardly breathe. Across the sky, the starlit winter sky, danced a mystical green light I had never seen before. I could see it move, like a ribbon of green flickering across the heavens, or like the hair of a Goddess, blowing in the wind. It was mesmerising to look upon, and the longer I looked, the more I thought I could hear it move. All of a sudden, I felt absolutely tiny compared to this infinite, magical light that wandered across the sky, as if I did not even exist. Who knew where the light was going? Was it even from our world, or was it only passing by on its way to another dimension? Tears tickled my eyes as the beauty before me caused my heart to ache. I did not know where the light was coming from, nor where it was going, but I wanted it to take me with it.

"That's the northern lights," Wolfsblade softly murmured into my ear. "Magical, is it not?"

"Yes," I croaked. "It's… it's unbelievable. Is this a dream?"

"No Ariana, it's not a dream." The Hero wrapped his arms around me, pressing my back against him, and I could feel him inhale the scent of my hair. "It's for you, I'm sure."

"But aren't too far south for this?" I asked, determined not to believe his superstitious beliefs.

"Well," he said, "we are further north than you think. Still, this is rarely seen on this latitude. We should consider ourselves lucky."

Losing myself in the sight of the Dance of the Gods, and in the arms of the Hero, I pressed myself closer to him and just enjoyed the view. More people had discovered it, just as we had, and we were joined by other spectators as the green light kept wandering across the winter sky, changing form as it did.

We stood for a long time in the cold, and then, without warning, the light seemed to finally wander off and fade away into the night, leaving only the stars to illuminate us. We headed back into the tavern, thought I found it difficult to leave, should the lights appear again. But once inside, I realised how cold I had been, and shuddered violently. The Hero followed me back to my room, intending to make sure I would not freeze before he left again, but I asked him to stay. I asked him to hold me, to warm me, and despite the looming threat of the Hero overpowering me and using me as he pleased, I felt safer than ever as I fell asleep in the Hero's arms, blessed by the magic of the northern lights.


	27. Chapter XXVI

**A/N: **I AM SO SORRY! Oooh, I feel SO BAD for leaving you hanging like this! GEEEZ! I can't even blame it on busy days, because I haven't really done anything! I guess, I simply had a gap in inspiration and motivation, and therefore this long waiting. I hope you're alright and feeling fine. I know I am! Though, I'm a bit tired right now. It's almost 4 AM in Sweden, and it's just as bright outside as it is at noon (the sun barely set) and I'm soon going to bed. I just needed to share this chapter with you first, and I sincerely hope you'll accept my apology!

Enjoy!

* * *

**A Valiant Heart**

**Chapter XXVI**

I opened my eyes, after dreaming of a mystical green light that had spoken to me, in a language I could not understand, in a voice that was almost too awesome for me to hear, and on my back, I could feel a chest rising and falling. It took me a second to remember that the Hero had stayed, and he was sleeping soundly next to me. Carefully, I sat up. His arm fell limp from my waist to my lap. I looked at him in the dim light of morning. I had never seen him asleep before, and a part of me almost wanted to believe that he never did sleep, being a Hero and all, but he slept peacefully. I observed his face, and I had never seen it this tranquil before. He looked much younger than usual, much more innocent, despite his battle scars and his grim features. I tenderly caressed his cheek, followed the darkened scar across his eye, carefully touched his lips and traced his jaw. Even asleep, he was awfully handsome, and I could not suppress a smile. Oh, I was foolish. But perhaps it was inevitable. We had known each other for a whole autumn and soon through a whole winter, and it was safe to say that this man knew me better than most. He had seen my bad sides, plenty of times, and I had seen his, and still, here we were. If we both held such affections for each other when knowing one another's horrible sides, then surely, we would have reached this point much sooner had we only known the other one's good sides. Of course I still felt shame in giving in like I had, when I knew how self-righteous he was, and of course this would not be the end. Oh, I was compelled to believe what he said to be true, about him always winning, because he did not play fair. I was not even sure there were any rules to his games. As long as he was winning, he would use any means to get there. But I could not resent him while he was lying before me like he did, sleeping like a child. I sighed as I rose from the bed, and the cold prickled my skin. I laced my dress on and took a look at myself in the mirror. I could barely believe that my face was actually healed, that it was as it was before the attack. I let my fingers trace where the scars had been, and though I had done it many times before, it was still astonishing to feel the smoothness of my skin. It was almost as if I had grown so used to feeling the scars underneath my fingertips, after tracing them so many times, that I thought my senses were fooling me, that the scars were there, I just could neither see them nor feel them.

I was much too occupied studying my face to notice the Hero waking and rising from bed, until I saw him approach me in the mirror, and he pulled me to him. He buried his head between my neck and my shoulder and sighed deeply.

"Good morning," he said, and his breath tickled my skin.

I giggled slightly as I turned to face him. "Good morning."

He was not late to kiss me, his hands gently cupping my face. "I've never slept this well in my entire life," he whispered. "I've never been this well rested, and I've been dead." He laughed at his last line, but I did not. Instead, I swallowed hard, the recollection of the sorrow I felt when knowing about his unfortunate death looming over me like a dark, malevolent shadow.

"Don't speak of such things," I begged him.

He smiled. "Well, I'm one of the few who can actually say such things, don't you think?" When I did not answer, he kissed me again and smirked. "Well, Scarlet Rogue, if I knew you would be this attached to me, I would have gotten rid of you once I had the chance."

I huffed. "Oh really? Well, as I believe it, _you _were the one obsessed with _me_."

Holding me tighter in his embrace, the Hero raised a brow. "Is that so? Well, I could hardly argue with someone as persuasive as you."

For a moment, I wished to stay here, in this room with the Hero, forever. I did not want to return to Bowerstone, to where things would go wrong, where people would wait for me, curious for an explanation. I wanted to stay with him, the person who knew me better than most, just as we were, right now. And I was fairly certain, that if I asked him, he would consent to stay. That thought was dangerous, dangerous indeed, and to prevent myself from falling deeper into the wish, deeper into the thought that it could very well become reality, if I only asked, I took a deep breath. "When are we leaving?"

The Hero huffed. "Are you in a hurry?"

I shook my head. "No. I just wanted to make sure we won't miss the boat. In all honesty, I'm a bit tired of the cold."

Mr Wolfsblade nodded. "Well, I suppose you're right. Winter at home is much more forgiving than this."

We took the time to eat some breakfast before the Hero called for Gordon to take us back to the mainland. The storm had passed, and the waters were calm again. We had packed a basket of food for the journey, and once again, the Hero paid the captain twice as much to be twice as fast, and so we were promised to reach Bowerstone by midnight. The small passenger space of the submarine was even narrower with the big, black dog at our feet, radiating heat and whimpering pitifully.

Though we spoke very little on our journey, I had plenty of time to think, and most of my thoughts revolved around the man next to me and the man possibly waiting for me in Bowerstone. I did not know what I would think once I met Garrett again. Would the feelings I felt for Garrett be reinforced by seeing him again, or would they be weakened, now when I had had a taste of the Hero and knew what possibly lay ahead of me? I did not know, I had no answers, but an anxious feeling stirred inside of me and caused my belly to tighten. I put my arms around it and frowned.

The Hero noticed my discomfort and carefully put a hand on my shoulder. "Are you not feeling well, Ariana? Do you need something? Wine, perhaps?"

I shook my head. "Oh, no, I'm feeling well, thank you. I'm just a bit anxious." I sighed deeply and looked at him. "I'm worried about what will happen once we dock in Bowerstone."

Mr Wolfsblade nodded, a crease appearing in his forehead. "When you see Garrett. I understand." He seemed rather disappointed, though still maintaining his relaxed posture and I could see how he tried to hide it from me.

I sighed again. "Not only that. I haven't spoken to Mary for this entire time, and I have no idea how she will react. She is my best friend, after all, and I shut her out. It was not fair of me to do so, and I can't expect her to forgive me. What if she needed me during that time?"

A soft smile spread across the Hero's face. "Don't you worry about Mary. She is perfectly alright."

"How do you know?" I asked, puzzled.

"Well," he scoffed, "I am her employer, remember? She often talks about you, though. She is worried, but she understands that you didn't want people to see you."

"I am baffled," I admitted. "I never thought you'd talk to her like that."

"Why not?" he asked. "She's a rather chatty girl, so why not chat? Clever, in her own way, and often very joyful. To be honest, I rather enjoy the company I have at the tavern." He huffed. "Alan and Patrick are probably the most entertaining people I have ever met. They could put up a show, and people would pay just to hear them nag and bicker at each other. How come they've grown so close, like an old, married couple? It's not as if they're particularly alike…"

I chuckled. "No, I suppose they're not. Well, Alan has been the Game Master for as long as I can remember. Patrick came to Bowerstone when I was a little girl, and he was then just as he is now. Though people talked behind his back and called him nasty things because he's a bit different, they all enjoyed his songs, and they all agreed on that he was by far the best bard we had ever had. I suppose they've both worked at the tavern for so long, they've grown accustomed to each other, just like a married old couple."

"Well, they don't have to have been working together for _that _long," the Hero corrected. "Just look at us; we bicker at times, sometimes like children and sometimes as if, _we're_ married."

I huffed. "Yes, well, I suppose that tells more about us as individuals than it does about anything else, really."

The man shrugged. "Or, it merely suggests that such an alliance would not be… _wholly_ unthinkable. I mean, we _have _endured so far."

My heart stopped as I gawked at him. Was that what I thought it was? Was that the Hero asking for my hand? No, it could not be. It could not be! "Sir, I—" I breathed, but could not find words. "I—I don't think that… that…"

"Don't worry, Miss Ariana," the Hero drawled with a roll of his eyes. "It wasn't a proposal. And even if it was, I think I'd already know your answer. Thus, I will spare me the humiliation and keep it an observation."

I was speechless. His words sank in like poison, and though I did not know why such words would affect me in such ways, I knew they hurt. Perhaps it was not so much the words themselves as it was the tone he used to deliver them, but I knew that a very strange feeling arose inside of me. The bare thought of being the wife of the Hero had sickened me before, caused me to quiver and curse, but now… I could not deny the tempting prosperity of being as secure as I would be in that position. However, I knew that being put in such a situation would cause involuntarily spending and jealousy; how would I know that my darling husband would be faithful to me once he had grown tired of all I could offer, when he was such a desirable man to so many _other_ people, people far more interesting than me? And to comfort myself I would undoubtedly spend more than necessary, to the point where my outgoings exceeded my income—surely the Hero would not set a limitless budget to his boring, wildly spending wife.

On closer thought, I decided that it would be for the best not to marry the Hero, after all. The tone of his deliverance still burned like acid on my skin, but a hardened shell had now grown beneath it. He could get on my skin all he wanted, but would never get under it. I would make sure of it.

Smiling, I slightly tipped my head to the side. "You almost had me worried there, sir," I said. "Though I must say that, had that been a proposal, I would have to take in consideration that we are indeed under water. That is rather hard to beat, I would imagine. Not every woman has had a suggestion of marriage underneath the surface of the ocean, I assure you. But, as you said, it _wasn't _a proposal."

His face was cautious, as if he tried to evaluate and interpret what I had just said. "Indeed you are right," he said. "But I believe every woman has her ideal place and situation for such a suggestion. I could hardly imagine a submarine ride would be yours."

"And now you will never know," I pointed out, satisfied with the bitterness that fell upon his face.

"I _could _ask you," he muttered, though I was not sure it was meant as a mutter. "I could ask you to be my wife, Ariana. But I know your answer, so I won't."

"That would awfully unlike you, don't you think?" I said, before I could stop myself. "To settle down and marry? A man like yourself, in his prime? Would you settle down with a nagging wife?"

But the Hero only huffed and smiled. "It seems like you know me all too well, Miss Ariana."

"The unfortunate outcome of our untimely meetings," I smiled back.

That would be the end to our conversation, and though the Hero smiled at me, I could still sense a disappointment coming from him. We were closing in on Bowerstone, we were informed, and I begun feeling enormously nervous. I had my cloak on, and planned on keeping myself as hidden as I had one we went to Knothole Island. When the submarine stopped and broke the surface, I could feel the Hero giving me a supportive squeeze around my hand, and my heart spun in my chest.

I quickly turned to him. "I want you to know how much I appreciate what you've done!" I rambled. "And I also want you to know that I am utterly confused, and that I don't know what I want or _who _I want!" I spoke so fast, I barely had the time to actually speak the words, and so it all came out as a disoriented mess of words, but the Hero put the tip of his fingers over my lips.

"Ariana, calm down," he said softly. "I know it may not seem like it, but I am perfectly aware of your struggles. I can't force you to anything, Ariana. I just _can't_. I don't have it in me to do so." He gave me a shrug. "If I did, it would all be so very easy."

Carefully listening to what he said, the last thing struck me as incomprehensible. "What do you mean? Why would it all be easy then?" I furrowed my brows. I had a faint idea of what he meant, but I wished rather than knew that I was not right in my suspicion.

"Because you'd have no other choice than to marry me," he simply said as he readied himself to leave the submarine as he let out the big, black dog.

I huffed loudly and caused him to turn with an amused countenance. I said nothing as I followed him out into the night. It was cold, but not as biting and unforgiving as it had been on the island. I pulled the hood further down my face and let Wolfsblade and Shadow guide me as I kept a steady gaze at my feet.

He took a hold of my arms and gently tugged me forwards. "This way," he softly said, and his voice sent shivers along my spine, even though I did not want to feel that way.

"Are there many people out?" I asked lowly.

"No," he said. "Only the drunkards, as usual."

Satisfied with the answer, I started to feel rather delighted to be home, for there was certainly no place like home. And I could hardly wait to show mother and father that I was restored. Aaron would probably think it to be some sort of joke, but soon enough he would understand that it was not. I was still worried about what it would be like meeting Garrett and Mary. It was certainly a worry that would stay with me until the moment I actually met them again.

We slowed down quicker than I had expected, and I drew a deep breath and looked up. The prospect of my house was almost overwhelming, and I was suddenly afraid; what would my mother say and do once she realised I was home again after being gone for days? What would _father _do? I felt myself tense, as if I was afraid to go back into the house.

Wolfsblade gently tugged me forwards when he realised I would not go by myself. "You're worried?"

Nodding, I put my hand over his, the one holding my arm. "A bit. What it mother and father thought the worst? What if they thought I'd gone to never return?"

"Then they would be proven wrong," the Hero smiled and led me to the back of the house, to the ledge up to my window. "Can you climb it yourself?"

Huffing, I snatched my arm away from him. "Don't think _I've _changed during the course of a few days, Mr Wolfsblade! I'm very well capable of climbing my own window, as I have been since I was six years old! Don't be so pompous as to think that you've weakened me."

The Hero smirked. "Now, there she is. Alive and well. I was worried she had gone astray."

I scoffed at him and turned to climb, but was pulled back forcefully as the Hero pinned me between himself and the wall. His breath was heavy upon my lips as he caressed my cheek.

"Consider me, Ariana," he breathed. "Consider me."

As if we were two attracting forced, I could not resist the urge to press my lips against his, and I embraced him with my arms around his neck. His lips were warm, hot almost in the biting cold, and our tongues seemed to be living their own lives, though just as attracted to each other as I was to the Hero. It felt dangerous yet thrilling to actually kiss the man on the very ground I had once loathed him. When we were in Knothole, it had seemed rather unreal to kiss him, as if it would all be made undone when we reached the mainland, as if I would awake from the dream. But kissing him here, outside my window in Bowerstone Old Town, made it all so real. I did not know what came over me as I pressed myself closer to him and deepened the kiss, if that was even possible.

He chuckled against my lips. "What got into you?"

I panted, my cheeks flushed. "Don't talk." It was as if I somehow knew this would be the last time I would ever kiss the man, and so I made sure to get as much as possible from him before it would be too late.

He was not late to respond to my initiative and I sensed that he as well as I feared this might be the last time we had together. His hands were wishful, his kiss demanding, and thought I felt an urge throughout my body, most certainly the same urge I could feel in him, I could not give in to it. I had to use all the strength in my body to push him away, and once our lips had parted, I gave a small squeak. "I need to go!"

He nodded, his fingers slowly tracing the swollen shape of my lips. "Good night, Miss Ariana."

Feeling my legs tremble by his tender touch, I whispered, "good night, sir."

Before I knew it, he had disappeared in the dark together with his companion, and I had to wait for a few more minutes before I could climb back up into the darkness that was my room.


	28. Chapter XXVII

**A/N: **Dear readers, I'm not going to bore you and insult you by giving you lame excuses for how late I am. All I can say, is that summer got the best of me, and I appreciate those of you who've been patient. I will try to be a bit better from now on, I'm just waiting for my inspiration to come back to me. Perhaps autumn will provide.

On the bright side, however; I got into university! Yay! So, from September and three years on, I'll be studying—hold on to something!—Computer Game Development with major in Game Writing! :D So friggin' awesome! I'm so looking forwards to it! I'll be nerding for three years, while getting a higher education. Awesome. Simply awesome.

Anyways! Here's chapter twenty-seven! I hope you've looked forwards to it!

Enjoy!

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******A Valiant Heart****  
**

**Chapter XXVII**

In the darkness of my room, I clumsily stumbled on a chair and cursed silently while bending down to pad my beaten foot. It was then I heard a soft gasp, and a shadow moved where I knew my bed was placed.

"Who's there?" a small voice hissed.

My heart suddenly exploded. "Aaron?"

The boy was silent, and then I heard the ruffles of sheets being unfolded from the bed. "Ariana!" His feet quickly landed on the floor, and before I knew it, the boy had embraced me, the side of his head pressing against my bosom. "Where in Skorm's name have you been?! We thought you had left us!"

I stroked the boy's soft hair and could not suppress a smile. "I have been away," I whispered. "I've been away to a place of magic." My eyes had begun adjusting to the dark, and I could see the silhouette of the eyes and nose in the face that looked up at me in awe. I tenderly cupped the boy's face and smiled. "Go and light a candle, Aaron. I've got something to show you."

The boy then trotted away and sounds of a working tinderbox reached my ears. When the candle lit up, the familiar sight of my room made me feel warm inside. Though I had not been away for long, I had to admit I felt a devastating longing for home.

As Aaron looked up at me, he suddenly gasped and flung his hands over his mouth. For a long while, he just stared at me, stared at my healed face, and took an uncertain step closer. "You're…" he started silently. "You're healed… but—but how did that happen?"

I smiled. "Magic."

The young boy seemed doubtful. "What kind of magic?"

"The kind that heals wounds," I chuckled. "What were you doing in my room?"

Aaron shifted awkwardly. "I… I missed you so much, I wanted to sleep in your bed so… that I could at least smell you. I know I'm a bit too old for that, but… I really missed you, Ariana!"

My heart throbbed as I reached out for the boy. "Come here." I held him tight, his small frame melting together with mine, and a tear escaped my eye. How could I have ever thought about leaving him?

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" he whispered.

"Of course," I told him, and we then lay down, both of us, in my bed and buried ourselves underneath the covers.

It was a bliss sleeping in my own bed, in my own house, next to the apple of my eye, and when morning approached, the young boy sat looking at me, his brown eyes curious. I smiled at him, but he only tipped his head to the side, and looked even more curious and baffled.

"What kind of magic did you use?" he asked. "Who did you meet? You can't do magic, can you? So who did it? Did it hurt? Did it take long? Where are the scars? Why—"

"For the love of Avo, Aaron!" I chuckled. "Let me at least wake up!"

The boy suddenly gasped. "Wait until mother hears about this! And father! They will be so happy! Mother was really worried, you know. She thought you had either gone forever or been kidnapped!"

Scoffing, I rose from my bed. "Who would have kidnapped a monster?"

"You don't have the scars anymore," Aaron pointed out bluntly.

"But I did when I left, remember?" I sighed. I knew he was just a boy, and as such, I could not expect him to really think about all the essentials.

"Well, what does it matter now?" he mused as he jumped out of bed. "I'm telling mother!"

"Aaron, no!" I cried, but the boy had already disappeared out the door. My heard beat quickly and as I heard my mother's shrill shriek from downstairs, I knew I had only seconds to figure out what I would tell her. I heard her hurrying footsteps, and then the door flew open.

Mother stood facing me, her face red and her eyes filling with tears. For a second, none of us moved. It seemed as if she could hardly comprehend the fact that I was actually there. "Ariana?" she finally said, her voice weak. "Ariana, is that really you?"

I did not expect the tears that suddenly started to well out of my eyes as I nodded. "Yes, mama. It's me." I had been her scarred daughter, the one she most certainly had lost hope of ever marrying away, the one that had ran away without even as much as a letter to explain myself. Yet, here I was, healed and lovingly embracing my mother as we had met in the middle of the room. "You, silly, _silly_, child!" she sobbed. "Don't you realise how _worried _I've been?!"

"Yes, mother," said I and tried my tears with the back of my hand. "I know, and I'm terribly sorry."

"Oh, let me look at you!" mother demanded and pulled me from her to inspect my face. She forcefully dragged her fingers along where my scars used to be, but as they were gone, without even the slightest reminder, she was positively stunned. "But… how?"

I did not want to tell her that it was all thanks to the Hero, so I simply smiled. "I had some money saved away, and I knew a place away from here that perhaps could help, and they could."

"It's," mother continued as she moved my face from side to side, "like magic…"

I smiled. "Like magic."

Mother seemed to be pondering over something, before her usual, decided face appeared. "I suppose you're hungry. And it's lucky your father is away. He would have had a heart attack if he'd known! I'd better break it to him gently. He's been sick with worry!"

I nodded. "Yes, I expect it will be rather… emotional."

"And you should go to work, young lady!" mother continued as she walked towards the door and motioned me to follow. "Mary has had an awfully difficult time managing in the tavern without you!"

"Well," I started, "isn't that Mr Wolfsblade's fault? He should have hired someone else."

"Don't be silly!" mother scoffed as we headed down the stairs. "He would never let anyone take _your _place! Oh, where have you _been, _child?!" She continued on muttering about how worried she had been as she made me a plate of grain porridge. "And the Mayor is, I dare say, a raving lunatic! Several guards have been put out of work these few days you've been away! And wouldn't you know, Mr Wolfsblade has been away, too! He's been nowhere to be seen! And Scarlet Rogue, that woman has practically disappeared!"

"Perhaps things got in her way," I spit out before being able to control myself. "I mean… perhaps she hasn't got any… perhaps Mr Wolfsblade's reappearance has put her out of work?"

Mother scoffed. "Oh, sure it did! But one would think that she wouldn't give up on us just like that! I thought, out of all women, Scarlet Rogue would be the one to withstand someone like the Hero. No matter, I hope it will all clear up soon enough. There was almost a riot on Town Square last night! I dare say we should barricade ourselves in Old Town if it keeps up like this! We should form our own city, right here!"

Almost overwhelmed by coming home to mother's hectic talking, I sat down by the table. Though I had never really thought of our kitchen as anything particular, it was surely a sight for sore eyes. While mother kept on speaking, as I had been away for an eternity, I did not listen as I let my hands run along the fibres of the wooden table, just to feel it underneath my fingertips. I had not been inside the kitchen since the attack, and it felt as it was so long ago, the kitchen seemed almost as a myth. But it was there, and it was real.

Mother tried to get my attention again, and not until she put the plate with the porridge down in front of me did I return to the present, where my mother stared at me with her hands at her side. "Well? Eat then, child! You look thin!" I grabbed the spoon only to satisfy her and when she had seen me taken the first mouthful of porridge, she broke into a smile and kissed my head. "Welcome home, my dearest."

I ate rather slowly, simply enjoying the feeling of being home, as if nothing had happened. Aaron came and went, and his mouth went on and on even though he knew I could not hear him. Father eventually came running into the house, but halted at the sight of me. I had not seen my father shed many tears in my life—in fact, I was hardly certain I had _ever _seen him cry—but his eyes were pooling as he stood staring at me in the door way. Slowly, he moved forwards.

"Ariana?" he whispered. "Is—is it really you?"

"Who else, papa?" I smiled.

He still seemed shocked. "I—I thought you'd left us."

"But I'm back now." Time seemed to stand perfectly still as we looked at each other, my father and I, and it was in that moment I realised that no matter how old I would be, and no matter how long the two of us would be apart, he would forever be the one I would turn to.

He nodded and a shy smile spread across his lips as if the same realisation had just swept through his mind. "I'm glad you are, child." He gave me another nod before he turned to return to his work, and I felt my heart ache. I wanted to embrace him, but I knew there would be plenty of time for that later. Father needed time to come to terms with the fact that I was back. Avo knows how the man would react once I actually left home.

"You father has been sick with worry," mother repeated after she had witnessed our tense meeting. She then shook her head. "Oh, my dearest… you don't realise what you've done to us, do you?"

Suddenly, I felt cold, and my heart sped up. It was typical my mother to try to make me feel guilty, and as most of the times, she succeeded. I stared down at the table, while I could hear mother walk around the kitchen, and as soon as she had left the room, I hurried back into mine. I felt an itch spreading through my body, and itch that was nothing like I had ever felt. It was guilt, raging through me like an inferno. I paced through my room, trying to force the tears to stay behind my eyes. I did not want to cry. I did not _need_ to cry. I had done nothing wrong, in truth! I was old enough to decide over my own fate, and though I had first planned to run away, to find myself a new life somewhere else, I came back. I came back whole. My face was mended; _I _was back. Though my heart was torn, my face was healed. As far as my mother was concerned, I had left to heal and returned once it was all done. She needed not to know the real reason I left.

"_Ariana!_" The familiar voice came so suddenly, I gasped and hurried to the window. "_Ariana, your brother said you were home. Please tell me you're truly there!_"

Carefully, I opened the window and leaned out. There, on the white ground underneath my window, stood Garrett. His cheeks were red and swollen from the cold and his long, dark blonde hair was covered by a woollen hat and around his neck, he had wrapped a knitted, scarlet scarf. His jacket did not seem very warm, however, and his gloves only covered half his fingers. "You look cold," I told him weakly.

The man burst out laughing. "You haven't seen me for almost two months, and the first thing you say to me is that I look cold?"

Indeed, I felt a bit silly for saying it, and as his blue eyes was so comforting, I was relieved he finally came. Shame filled me when I remembered how ill I had treated him while being confined to my room, but seeing him now, standing by my window, I knew how much I had really missed him. Though my heart could not be less torn. It was split in two pieces; one belonged to Garrett, fully and completely, but the other half belonged to the Hero, though my head told me that was surely unwise.

"Ariana," he chuckled, "come outside."

I hesitated at first. There was something inside me telling me that I was not ready, that I should not meet him, but I could not resist the temptation and hurried to put my woollen coat on and dug out an old scarf from my dressing cabinet before I climbed out the window. Garrett caught me as quick as my feet landed on the ground in a warm and tight embrace and as if my body had reunited with a part that had gone missing, I melted into him. "I've missed you."

He chuckled against my hair. "I've missed you too."

"I'm so terribly sorry! I didn't mean to push you away, and—"

"You don't need to apologise," said he and pulled away. His hand caressed my face. "I understand."

For a moment, I could not understand how he could be so calm and centred. I could not understand how he could simply just forgive me, as if I had done nothing wrong. In a second, the guilt grew stronger, and it started to weave into different patterns inside of me. I frowned. "You're too kind for your own good, Garrett."

"Kindness is all it takes," he said, "to change the world."

I chuckled softly. He took my hand and together, we walked towards the shores. "How's Mary?"

"She is surprisingly calm," said he.

Furrowing my brows, I glanced at him, "what do you mean? Why is she 'surprisingly calm'?"

"Well," Garrett started, "she has spoken about you every day since the accident. She wonders what you do all day, if you're in pain, what really happened, when you will get well, and so on. When Aaron came rushing into the tavern to tell everybody you were home, and healed, I thought she would be… well, less calm, I suppose."

"Aaron told _everyone_?" I gasped.

He laughed. "Don't blame the boy, Ariana. I suppose he just wanted to tell your friends."

"So Patrick knows?" I asked. It was though more a statement than a question.

"Well, yes."

"Oh, terrific," I muttered. "Then the whole bloody town knows."

Again, Garrett laughed. "What's so terrible about that? You would be out sooner or later, am I right?"

"Yes, but—but I didn't think I would be publicly _expected_!" I cried. "That means people will have _anticipations_! As if they think I've _changed_!"

"Well," Garrett pressed, "have you not?"

I had to ponder about that for a moment before I could reply. Indeed I had changed, in various ways, but I did not feel as though people would conceive me as different from before. To them, I wished I would still be Ariana the Tailor's daughter, and that I would still be nothing more than plain in their eyes. Perhaps—though I dreaded it—they would see me in a different light after hearing about how I had slain the Balverine, but deep in my heart, I wished them to ignore me just as they had before. I wished that my only conversation with strangers would be the one I had to have each time a customer drank too heavily or when I would have to order them to take their brawl outside. I was not looking for fame, nor was I looking for recognition. If I did, I would have revealed myself as Scarlet Rogue a long time ago. But though I wanted nothing to be changed, I knew _I _surely had changed. "I suppose I have… a bit."

He smiled, the way only he could, and it comforted me in a unique way.

"I'm terribly sorry, Garrett," I sighed. "I'm sorry I treated you as abominably as I did. I was not thinking straight!"

"You know," said he as his smile faded away, "I was devastated when you told me to go. But I understand why you did it." He sighed. "When I first heard the rumours… I thought you were dead. You should have heard what they said about you, Ariana! It was everything from a missing finger to severe mutilation. Some claimed the beast had taken your arm, some said your leg. I was… I was worried about you, but I understood you did not want to face people, no matter what really did happened. Though I know it's an awful thing to say, but it was a comfort to me that you didn't allow Mary to see you, either. It—it made me realise that you weren't only keeping me away."

I swallowed hard. Guilt was once again jabbing my heart. "So, you've been waiting?"

He chuckled. "Who wouldn't?" Carefully, he stopped and forced me to turn to him. His blue eyes were calming. Slowly, he leaned in for a kiss. I reached up to meet him, but when our lips touched, I could not help but to be disappointed. Though it was positively pleasant, it was far from what it felt like kissing the Hero. I despised myself for it, but I could not help it. I pressed myself closer to him, daring to deepen the kiss, desperate to feel something—anything!—that would be remotely alike what I felt when kissing Wolfsblade, but it remained simply pleasant. Our lips moved as if they did their duty, but there was no magic. Perhaps this _was _what kissing felt like, to regular people. Perhaps the magic flowing in the Hero's blood was making it all so very special. I did not know, and it angered me. It was not Garrett's fault, nor was it Wolfsblade's. I was not even certain it was my own fault. Perhaps, it was only Nature. In our world, Wolfsblade was as close to the deities we would ever get, and Garrett was not. Perhaps this was how ordinary, mortal people felt.

He pulled away, clearly noticing my distraction, and he furrowed his brows. "Is everything alright, Ariana?"

I nodded, though a bit discouraged. "Yes." I looked away for a moment, feeling the cold wind in my face, and at once, I missed that intense warmth I had felt in Knothole, though the winds there were much colder than the winds in Bowerstone. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine."


End file.
